"Yes! Damn you, yes!"
I feel his ass muscles clench but not to expel me. He grips me hard inside, to keep me from withdrawing, moaning my name.
I find a rhythm that suits me and fuck him until he cries my name in a manner like all the others before him, adding "Master" before it. Now I know I have reached him.
I have lasting power and he orgasms three times before I shoot deep into him. Still, the fact that his member has filled and emptied so many times in rapid succession but testifies to the fact that his juices have been stored up for years. Now he is spent, as am I.
I unshackle him. "On the floor! On your back!" He drops painfully. His behind is laced with very sore welts and moving is not an easy task. His face is shocked but submissive as he lays back. I kick his legs wide apart and he spreads his arms. I am amused to see a penis ready for more. The man has been starving himself. If only the mid-term fellows at the academy had been mature enough to see him through this, I think, but then youth knows but half the story.
My bladder is full and I straddle his hips, relieving myself up and down his chest, splashing his face with my urine.
He opens his mouth and greedily gulps in the golden stream, struggling to quench a thirst building for two decades.
"Over!" I command, and he flips onto his stomach. I cannot resist the rawhide strap hanging on the wall, for I so love the sound of leather landing on flesh. I give him a dozen good ones, blistering the sorest areas and heating the blisters. His bottom hops into the air and he cries out but the words carry the message that I must have my way with him. "Your will, Master Hyde. Do with me as you wish! I beg of you!"
"Up!" I shout, and he is on his feet.
His face is flushed, but he looks satisfied. And obedient. "You will go home to your wife, hand her this paddle and beg her to lay it on until sunrise."
He shivers."Yes, Master Hyde."
"Twice each month you will seek out a man who can give you the needed treatment for your dementia. Perhaps Utterson is a likely prospect. In any event, your ego needs thinning lest it strangle you in your sleep. I've just shown you the remedy, one which must be administered all through the rest of your life."
"Master Hyde, you have shown me the way to a better life."
"One more thing, Wilcox. You will never, ever, show your face before me again. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," he says humbly.
He pulls his trousers up like a little boy, accepts the cricket paddle from me and turns. Before he leaves the salon, he turns back once more, his voice filled with emotion, "Thank you, sir."
Now that I am alone with Ursula, I realize that time grows very short. We must finish before Utterson arrives. And perhaps the others. I cannot afford to dissipate my energies further on such an important occasion.
I rush to my darling and kneel before her on the stage. She is already half awake but in an altered state, whimpering, delirious, trapped in a delectable suffering. I place the smelling salts beneath her nostrils. The ammonium carbonate causes her to snap her head around violently. For the moment I leave on her blindfold. I pull her to me and cradle her in my arms.
Why do I feel so empty? It is as if my energy has been drained like the air from a bicycle tire. "No!" I cry. I have been preoccupied with Wilcox and during that time Jekyll, silent and cunning as he is, regained strength. It is as though this was his plan all along—to distract me with Wilcox and weaken me.
We battle for control. Ursula is terrified. She does not know what is going on and I can only clutch her to me as Jekyll and I fight it out for supremacy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My Master jerks and convulses like a madman. He is shouting to himself, and answering! But no, both Jekyll and Hyde are here, each shouting, "Blast you!" and "Over my dead body shall you have her!"
I am terrified. I do not know in whose arms I lie, whose chest I am crushed against. Both Jekyll and Hyde are so close, one at each ear.
And I can barely concentrate. An astonishing pain permeates my bottom and penetrates through my ass cheeks through skin and muscle, right to bone. It is a dangerous pulsing, a throbbing ache of agonizing proportion. I have felt nothing like this and hope never to do so again.
It comes to me in a moment that Hyde marked me. His martinet sliced through my flesh and muscle like a knife carving a roast right to the bone. A wave of warmth rushes through my body at the memory of being so completely under the power of one who provides pain and pleasure at his whim and cannot be swayed by mine. And truly, now I belong to him, for do I not bear his brand?
While these men battle with one another, I can only cling to the one who holds me, weak from an excruciating pain that vibrates through my body so that my entire existence is in a bubble of agony. And yet I would suffer it again, gladly, to be with he who masters me so thoroughly.
Through my haze of misery, I feel a hard rod press against my stomach. Before I can understand why, or what this fleshy spear wants from me, I am lifted onto my knees. The blindfold keeps me from seeing to whom I belong and I vacillate between certainties that these strong arms belong to Hyde, while the sensuous firm lips to Henry.
"Open your mouth!" a voice commands, and I cannot tell if it is Jekyll's or Hyde's voice and I feel I should be able to. Is this not a betrayal? I moan at the thought. Hot lips burn mine open. A tongue probes me. Hands manipulate my tender titties. I am so hungry. My lower island of pain makes me limp and receptive to all that is applied in my direction. I wish only to open myself to the will of this one who now possesses me, whomever he may be, and to submit to his strength.
The voices have ceased. There is only flesh, his, mine, the agonizing throb that beats through me like my own heart, and which I shall remember always.
The point of that fleshy shaft finds me in a place it has not yet entered. Underneath me, my crack presses it down so that it lies along the opening, heating me. My body quivers in excitement and fear. The pain in my bottom seems to take second place to this new development.
I am poised above his firm flesh, each of us on our knees, facing, my legs spread wide, his hot rod lying along the crack of my wet hole passively and yet I find this stimulating. I feel an ache within that surpasses the wild howl coming from my brutalized bottom. This new ache is deep inside. Longing wells within me and I fear I shall surely die if that craving is not satisfied.
My legs tremble as I await his will. His staff is made of stone, rock hard. I know that were it to begin to push up into me, I shall not stop it from reaching its goal.
Hands circle my waist. They grip me hard and my heart beats wildly. I am lifted into the air a few inches. Suddenly the tip of his rod is at my opening. It slides in but a bit, stopped by that barrier. As he presses against it, pain shoots through me like sparks erupting from a log in the fireplace.
I pause, breathless with fear and anticipation.
The hands about my waist force me down hard. My door shatters. My walls expand. I cry out the loss of the child and greet the woman emerging. My room is filled until there is no space left. In a moment I wish to last forever, my Master's cock impales me utterly.
I am bathed in painful fulfillment. "Master!" I whisper, "I am yours for all of my days."
Chapter Twenty-Five
"Open your eyes!"
Ursula's violet eyes open, then open wider. She has a blush about her that is no longer innocent, but carries a new sensuous quality which is most becoming. Mingled with this is a look of love; I know she will endeavour to please and obey.
She peels away the leather face mask. Her face is filled with wonder. "Henry and Hyde. You are one and the same man. I knew it!"
Now I am startled. "But how could you know?"
"Your hand, silly. Both of you wore a bandage. Both have cuts to the flesh."
"You are a clever girl," I say, pulling her close.
Suddenly she looks confused. Her eyes turn inward as she queries herself. "But to whom do I belong? Master Hyde marked me, but I believe it was
Henry who broke me just now."
"Hyde and Henry marked you, for the 'H' stands for both. And both tore away your maidenhood."
She thinks about this for a moment and the puzzled expression leaves her lovely face. Behind it is acceptance, although she does not fully understand. She cannot, of course, see into the future, when the demands of two masters will challenge her deliciously.
Her lips find mine and she kisses me full and deeply. My cock is still inside her, still firm. My balls refill with the seeds she so desires. With two men working here, each lusty, each ready for action, each in love with Ursula, she will know pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.
"Master H," she giggles and then, with a soft look that tells me I possess her completely, she assures me with great fervor in her voice, "I shall obey and submit to you both. Am I not the luckiest woman alive? I have two Masters, who own me equally. What woman could ask for more? Together you have taken me to the heights."
"Yes," we speak as one voice, "but there are always new mountains to climb."
She nods and the gleam in her eyes tells me this is true.
"At last," I say, "just the two of us."
"You mean three."
Now I wonder if she does, in fact, understand what has occurred. "No, sweet Ursula mine, two. You and me." I point to her and then to myself.
She smiles prettily, grabs my fingertip and sucks on it for a moment. "You," she says, pointing my finger back to my chest. Then she turns my finger to her own. "And we."
A strange look comes over her face. Suddenly I do not recognize my Ursula. A new wanton quality permeates her being. I find her demeanor aggressive and I cannot say it is unappealing, just startling.
"Do you believe yourself to be the only one split by your desires?" she asks. There is a seductive quality to her voice that I find invigorating.
"Well, no, of course not, but..."
"Then strip, sir!" Her hand reaches out for the martinet and her eyes gleam wickedly. "I shall impress my mark upon you, in the same spot as you have marked me. For only when your derriere sports my initial may both Jekyll and Hyde truly say, 'I belong to you.'"
A Preview of THE DARKER PASSIONS: DRACULA
Chapter One
During the months he came for her, night after night, her window exposed to whipping winds from the mountains, the heavy velvet curtain chained aside so that the moon could guide him to her bed, Magda never resented him. Vlad Tepes was a nobleman of the boyer class, stern, a natural ruler. He demanded much, frightening her and thrilling her at the same time. His harsh discipline taught her to submit; she learned to anticipate his desires and to please him. Each night he pierced her, with his teeth and with his fleshy sword. He drained her youthful blood slowly, erotically, through wounds inflicted in her throat and from the crimson patterns he painted across her bare bottom. When she weakened and could only find her strength in his eyes, she still did not hate him, although the word love, as she had known it, no longer lingered in her mind.
Death was like a much-needed sleep her exhausted mind and body embraced. When Magda awoke, his too-handsome face oriented her. Sharp features etched with fierceness and pride burned open her memory. That pale face still held her firmly in its power. They were bound, inexplicably. She understood his commands and obeyed without question. He sensed her every move, as if he tracked her nightly drifts down the mountainside to the village where her gypsy mother had given her birth. Yet this was not so. Since she altered, their physical contact had dissipated. That should have freed her of obsessive feelings, but it did not. Jealousy gnawed away slowly; fungus dining on doomed flesh. More than ever she wanted to possess him, to be possessed by him, to have him all to herself.
He assured her the others meant nothing to him. When he brought the first over, Magda was shocked. By the second she realized she had become part of a harem, as if they were all Turks, whose religion encouraged such pagan bonding.
The three females lived an uneasy truce. In fact, the other two were natural allies. Both dark haired and eyed, one delicately slim, one fleshy, even in this state. They could have been sisters, and may have been, once. Now these peasant girls clung together like second and third siblings, eternal rivals with the eldest. The onus falls on the first born to mete out strict discipline to guard the rights of privilege, Magda thought. They were two and she one; and although it did not come easily to any of the three, over time she warmed to her role, and the sisters learned to yield.
Chapter Two
Magda often reflected on how two centuries had crawled by, and yet there seemed less time. Existence without sunshine became a bane. Ennui set in. The countryside changed and food was no longer plentiful. The hungers Vlad had bequeathed controlled her and therefore left Magda on the edge of being out of control. Tense. Angry. Eager to lash out, particularly at him.
For a long time now he had seemed obsessed with plans for the future, and with others, leaving her to spend nights alone, or with the rough peasant boys stinking of fruit brandy and strong tobacco, or with the sisters. Silently she blamed him for her state, and resented his preoccupations. And then he invited the Englishman to their home.
"I am Dracula," she heard him say seductively. "Welcome to my house," adding words like "enter freely" and "of your own will."
"Is he now part of the household?" she demanded later, hissing the words at him.
But Vlad let it pass, something he would not have done even one hundred years ago. Then he would have nipped her impertinence on the spot. His inattention wounded her; she hated him.
She also felt invaded. Until she was introduced to the Englishman.
He was soft, so unlike the Wallachians. Blond curly hair. Smooth pink-tinged skin that bred fantasies of blood rushing to the surface at her command. He kissed her hand and met her eye with innocence, not with the dominance that clouded the eyes of the locals, the result of struggling against a harsh mountainous terrain. This Brit smelled fine and wore tight clothing. His finger nails were clean and trimmed. She saw the picture of his wife, Mina: a serious-eyed well-scrubbed girl who would never fulfill his dark longings, for Magda recognized the desire to surrender burning in his blue eyes. Mr. Harker was his name. Jonathan.
Vlad spent that first evening with this young man. In the study discussing the intimacies of life in England. In the great dining hall, carefully watching him eat and drink. In the bedroom.
And then it was evening again. Jonathan defied Vlad's warning: "You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. Did you see with my eyes and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps better understand."
The Englishman wandered the ancient halls alone, looking, no doubt, for trouble. He found it. Magda got to him first, but the others were on her heels.
As he entered the candle-lit room in the tower, his eyes bulged. Apparatus dating from as far back as the early Middle Ages filled half the circular space. A rack, an Iron Maiden, a pillory and whipping post, a wheel and half a dozen other instruments of torture. Along the stone walls hung an assortment of hooks, chains and pulleys, interspersed with well-cared-for tools—paddles, canes and whips of every description, clips, and needles for piercing and stinging rods of several varieties. Vlad's collection spanned six hundred years and reflected many cultures.
Jonathan looked startled then delighted when he saw the three females, dressed for the night. His cherry lips parted and a childlike look spread across his immaculate features. Instinctively, he focused on Magda; she knew her red hair, emerald eyes and full breasts captivated him; gypsy blood made her voluptuous compared to his emaciated Mina, lascivious, rather than properly veneered for polite society.
A sly look spread across his delicate features and she did not miss the bulge forming at his crotch; he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and anticipated both the cookies and the consequences.
The other two would have overwhelmed him, but Magda cut them with a glance.
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The fleshy one said fearfully, bitter with disappointment, "Go on! You are first, and we shall follow; yours is the right to begin." She recognized her place.
"He is young and strong, there are kisses for us all," the thin one said, an insolent edge to her tone that Magda would see to later.
"In turn," Magda informed them, feeling inexplicably generous.
She removed a long-handled oval wooden paddle from the wall. "Come to me," she teased, opening her arms to Jonathan. He moved stiffly at first, but as his anticipation grew, his steps quickened.
She removed his great coat and his collar and tie. The buttons on his white shirt slid easily through the buttonholes and she yanked the crisp linen down his arms, trapping them. "I have never known an Englishman," she murmured, and his cock swelled further. Magda ran a hand over the warm skin, through the scattering of silky chest hairs. She found a blue vein trailing up over his breast to the throat. She traced it with her finger tip and let her finger rest there in a proprietary way. The throb echoed throughout her body, into her genitals, then back through her stomach, which contracted with hunger and lust.
"Mr. Harker, you've been a bad boy," she whispered.
His body twitched, and the others giggled. He was tall and she forced his face down to her breasts, her crimson nipples swelling over the low-cut gossamer gown.
"Do they punish bad boys in England?"
He nodded. The sisters laughed hysterically.
"We Transylvanians know how to punish bad boys. Severely." The vein called to her, promising warm carnal sensation. The others moved closer and stripped Jonathan of his trousers. A firm, slender body, but there was a softness to him that wanted attention. The thin sister moved a hand to his hairy crotch and the fleshy one rubbed herself against one cheek of his hairless behind. Magda slapped his exposed ass cheek six times with the paddle until it quivered. She could imagine the stinging flesh redden and that excited her.
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