by Colette Gale
She was underground, in the darkness, with her ange. And she loved him.
~*~
Over the next week, Christine and Erik lived together in his small house by the underground lake, like any other man and woman in love. Erik worked on Don Juan Triumphant, the opera he had been composing in stretches for years, and Christine sang when he asked her to.
She loved to look at his writing, the pages of melodic composition: scrawled black notes, in oblong shapes as if they’d been dashed on the paper with little thought. Barely legible lyrics, scratched on the large foolscap, lined up under the notes. He wrote in pulses: frenzied jotting and scratching, and then slow, arrogant, and easy printing.
They laughed and talked and ate; she cooked and washed and cleaned. She learned that, along with his arrogance and mysterious demeanor, Erik had a dry wit and a range of strong opinions on everything from women’s fashion to the management of the Opera House. He was well-read and a brilliant engineer who had created a luxurious, if cloistered, living space for himself.
As the week went by, Christine’s life at the Opera House was pushed away into the deepest corner of her mind. It became like the memory of a completely different life—competitive, crowded, loud, and superficial. The life embodied by the beautiful lady.
A life to which she was not eager to return.
The only mar on her days was the black mask that Erik refused to remove. She did not know if he even took it off when he slept, for he disappeared after they made love and returned before Christine awoke in the morning.
She did not understand it. She had seen every other part of his body, and it was as perfect as a man’s figure could be. Long and lean, muscular without being bulky, golden, and dusted with the right amount of rich black hair in just the right places. What could be so terrible on such a model of perfection that he had to hide it from her?
The one time she attempted to raise the subject, Erik responded with such deep, cold anger and stormed out of the room in such a violent manner that Christine became even more confused and curious. “You can never understand,” he snarled, and then locked himself in the music room for the rest of the day and night.
The rabid scratching of his pen over paper followed by discordant clashes and mournful chords came from the room well into the night, and continued when Christine awoke the next day.
Yet, she would not forget it. She could not bear to have something as simple as a tooled piece of leather between them.
And so, when, on the seventh day after he had brought her there, she awoke early in the morning and found him dozing on a chaise in the music room, she knew she at last had the opportunity. Her plan was to carefully lift the mask to see what was beneath, and to show him that it had no effect on her feelings for him. Surely, once the mask was removed and he saw that she still loved him, any annoyance he might harbor would dissolve.
She knew how to turn his attention to more pleasurable things.
Christine approached him quietly, noticing as she always did the way the broad sprinkling of hair dusted his square, molded chest, and trailed into a slender line into his trousers. The column of his neck, wide and long, curved above his throat's tender hollow…one area on his sleek body that was as vulnerable as her own.
She reached, lifted the mask, and pulled it off quickly and smoothly.
What she saw was horrible—horrible!—and she screamed as his eyes flew open and he launched himself off the chaise.
“Damn you, Christine! Damn you!" hecried, covering his horrid, disfigured face, scrabbling for the mask that still dangled from her fingers as she stared in terrified shock. “How could you?” heshouted, snatching at the mask and jamming it back on his face, grabbing her arm and throwing her to the chaise.
She stumbled, fell, crying as he raged and shouted, shoving papers off the piano, sending them cascading over the floor. He was crying, shaking, clutching at his middle as though he’d taken a bullet there, even as he shouted obscenities at her, his eyeswild and wide, his mouth curled in an irate red twist.
“Damn you!” he cried over and over. “Damn…you…Christine.”
He collapsed on the floor with great, jerking sobs that came from somewhere so deep they were nearly inaudible. But his entire folded body wrenched with each ruptured breath, and when he raised his flat blue eyes to stare at her at last, Christine knew she’d done the unforgivable.
TEN
* * *
Christine Daaé had disappeared more than seven days earlier and Maude knew Erik had taken her to where he might introduce her to more…personal tutelage. She smiled at the thought of the pleasure Christine was to receive from Erik’s strong body.
Since then, Carlotta had returned to grace the stage with her impossibly high, trilling arias, and the Opera House managers jumped at every shadow or every loud noise.
Maude felt it was her duty to find ways to help alleviate their tension.
She’d been anticipating her own pleasure when she finally got Monsieur Firmin Richard alone and at her mercy, but the moment never seemed to materialize. The man was always surrounded by people—stage managers, singers, dancers, musicians, even patrons. Maude had no choice but to take drastic measures.
It was the seventh night after Christine had disappeared, and the production of Faust wasin full swell, with music filling the chamber and the dancers swirling about the stage. The Opera House was crowded to bursting—whether it was due to curiosity about the Opera Ghost and his abduction of the ingenuous singer, or desire to see the performance, no one was certain.
Maude wondered if anyone other than Carlotta had realized that, along with Christine's disappearance, the Opera Ghost seemed to have gone away as well.
She stood in the shadows of the backstage area, between two of the five black curtains that hung parallel to one another on each side of the stage, from the front to the back wall. Each curtain was wider than the one in front of it, giving the stage a triangular appearance and affording various passageways where the cast might exit or enter from the performance area.
Beyond the black curtains, off to the side of the stage and beyond the sight of the audience, were the props and scenery from the production. And standing just in front of the large papier-mâché and wood construction that represented Hell was Maude’s target.
Firmin Richard was tall and lean, with an equine face, long fingers, narrow wrists, a long bony nose, large, narrow feet…and the promise that this tendency would be repeated elsewhere. Maude's quim moistened at the mere thought of what his trousers must hide.
She worked her way between the curtains until she stood in the shadows behind Richard. His attention was focused on the performers, and he stood with his hands clasped at the back of his waist, his elegant foot tapping in off time with the music.
Maude moved closer to him, hiding in the folds of the black curtain carefully so that it wouldn’t move and attract the attention of the audience, and so that she could remain out of his sight for the moment. She wanted the element of surprise on her side. Thus, stepping just behind him, she walked right into his clasped hands, aiming her opening right where his fingers twiddled.
When her crotch brushed up against Richard, he fairly jumped forward, and would have blundered into the craggy Hell scenery if she had not grabbed his coattails.
“Now, now, Firmin, you know you have been waiting for this for many weeks,” she whispered boldly into his ear, holding him in place, back against her. She tipped her hips toward his ass and felt, to her satisfaction, his fingers take up twiddling again just where she needed it the most. Despite the fact that the little twitching motions were on the other side of three layers of fabric, Maude's nib lifted and stretched there as she pressed forward.
“Now, let us see what you have here…” she murmured into his ear, and slid her hands from behind under his coattails and jacket, and into the front trouser pockets. To her delight, the right one had a hole in it, and it was no large task to force her fingers through the fraying
seam and onto the warm, hairy flesh of his thigh.
Richard jumped again when she touched him, and craned his long neck to see behind him. Maude pressed her breasts into his back and slid her hand through the opening of his drawers and found what she was looking for.
Oui, tout à fait!
She smiled, and smiled more as her fingers closed around his slender, pulsing length…and slid longer, and longer, and…mon Dieu, longer!
“Oui,” she murmured, tears of joy springing to her eyes as her sex throbbed. “Oui!”
No one could see Maude and Firmin. Hell stood between them and the audience, and the performers were all in front of the massive set structure.
She slipped around to the front of him, already beginning to unfasten the buttons of her staid black gown. Firmin tried to resist, but no sooner had she opened the high collar and exposed her generous, red-tipped breasts than he was reaching for them.
Those long, elegant fingers closed, one over each breast, and hefted them, thumbs rippling over the pointed nipples. Maude, still smiling, unfastened his trousers and released the longest cock she had ever seen. Mon Dieu, if it were not pulsing and stretching so straight out, it would hang to his knees!
Liquid flooded her lower lips as she thought about the long, smooth strokes she would get from him. Pulling him toward her, she toppled back onto the orange and red mountains of Hell, and leveraged him off-balance on top of her.
Firmin did not seem to mind that she was in control; he appeared to be as enthralled by the size of her breasts as she was with the length of his cock. He did not wait to be directed; as the music swelled around them, camouflaging Maude’s groan of satisfaction, he closed his mouth over one thrusting nipple. Making little circles around it, over the tight, hard wrinkles of her areola, his tongue flicked and twitched against her nubbin. Long-anticipated pleasure washed over her, flowing straight to her belly and then her pip below.
“Ah,” she sighed gratefully, allowing her head to tip back onto the papier-mâché ledge behind her. She had not released his cock, and as he continued to suck and lick at her nipples, she felt his member grow harder and longer…and longer still!
The air around them was cool on her wet nipples, stirred by the activity onstage only mètres away. The dancing and the raising and lowering of scenery backdrops sent little gusts of breeze over her flesh, raising every hair and heightening the sensation of his hot mouth.
Her skirts flipped up over her open bodice, sending yet another puff of wind over her heated skin, and Maude felt the relief of fresh air on her thighs. Firmin was wasting no time, nor did he fumble with her skirts and crinolines…She closed her eyes in satisfaction. A man with a wand like that surely knew how to wield it.
But then, as she felt his warm hands spreading the opening in her drawers, Maude recognized the music changing around them and realized…
“Non!” she hissed, flipping her skirts back down and grabbing his bony wrist. From his position on his knees, he jerked away and tipped backward, and would have landed on his ass if she had not had hold of him. His long reddish cock protruded quite deliciously from the opening in his drawers, and Maude had only a bare second to admire its beauty before she pulled him to his feet.
But it was too late. The scenery on which they had been climbing had already begun to move and in moments, they would be exposed in all of their disheveled glory, not only to the backstage runners and waiting dancers, but to the audience as well.
Act II had come and, with it, Faust’s descent to Hell.
There was nowhere to go but with him.
Maude and Firmin had the realization at the same time, and they both scrambled into the back side of the massive structure as it rolled out from behind the curtains, and slipped into the small opening at the rear.
When they tumbled inside, Maude landed on top of Firmin. Under the irregular papier-mâché mountains, it smelled like sawdust and paint, and the stage lights blaring through the red and orange made the interior warm and glowing.
Before she had the chance to react, Firmin slipped out from under her in the cramped, jutting space, and sidled up behind her. Maude cooperated and raised herself up on her hands and knees, feeling the gentle rumble of the scenery’s wheels moving beneath them as it—and they—were hauled to the middle of the stage.
Excitement built in her at the thought of potential discovery. To have the manager of the Opera House, and the proper ballet mistress, copulating inside the scenery just as Faust was experiencing the bowels of Hell…how delicious and erotic it would be! Perhaps their groans and moans would be faintly heard by some of the players…and the audience…and no one would know from whence they came! Her breaths were coming faster now, and she became impatient, ready for that long cock to draw pleasure from her, there in the midst of the performance.
From behind, Maude's skirt lifted, her drawers were yanked down, and her ass was bare and waiting. She wriggled it impatiently before she felt the round tip of his cock knocking at the door. Arching her belly toward the floor, raising her hips and shoulders, Maude waited for that long, sweet length to slip inside.
She was not disappointed; in, and in, and in…she closed her eyes in deep pleasure as he pushed in as far as he could go…and then more. Her labia swelled, closing around him, sucking him into her hot depths.
He pushed up, right up against the inner hub of pleasure, the spot deep inside that never got enough attention. His hands grasped her hips, yet she could not feel his thighs against hers…She reached back to tickle his ballocks and realized he still had more to go! He was so long that he could not fit his entire length inside her!
At that realization, Maude came. The orgasm shuddered through her, and she gasped in surprise. The crescendo of music swallowed her reaction, which turned into a long, low moan as he began to stroke inside her before she’d finished convulsing around him.
He reached for her breasts with difficulty, as his cock was so long and rigid that it was difficult for them to get too close. Pinching at her nipples, plucking them, he raised her shoulders so that she knelt upright in front of him, her head nearly brushing one of the wooden beams above.
His breath was hot in her ear as he muttered, “I’ll fuck you hard, Madame Giry. You’re going to take my whole cock inside if I have to jam it up into your throat.” He slammed into her and she nearly lost her balance, one hand coming out in front of her, to catch on the wooden frame.
“You have the longest cock I have ever seen,” she replied, turning her head so that her words would go back to him. “You can slam that wand inside me anytime you wish.”
“I’m going to tear you apart with my long, hard cock,” he told her, pumping faster, grasping her nipples harder. “I’m going to tear your quim apart, I’m going to fuck you so hard. You’ve never had it like this before. You’re going to beg me for more.”
Pleasure-pain circled through her at his nasty, biting words. Maude’s breath came faster and she tipped her head back. “Fuck me, Firmin. You’re the manager. Fuck me. Tear my quim. Rip it up. Make me come.”
“I’m gonna fuck you until you cry for mercy. I don’t care if the whole Opera House hears you. And then I’m going to fuck you up the ass.”
Pleasure blossomed suddenly and she moved her hips in time, back and forth, pressing against the wall in front of her. “Harder, Firmin. Fuck me harder! Work…harder!” She came again, her nipples tightening to the point of pain, pinched nearly flat by his fingers, and her sex trembling and weeping.
“Good. Now, on your back,” Firmin said, pulling his long cock from her. He pushed her to the floor, onto her back, and straddled her belly. “Now, Madame Bitch, you’re going to suck me.” His cock jutted out so far it nearly touched her chin. She smiled in anticipation.
“I’m going to suck you like a child’s lollipop. I’m going to suck you so hard, you’re going to scream like a girl. And beg me to let you come.” She lifted up and pulled his hips closer, bringing that slender cock into her mouth.<
br />
He sighed, closing his eyes, and jammed in as far as it would go. She coughed, choked, then sucked as though she could pull his insides out. She slipped both hands around the exposed length of his erection, working them as an extension of her mouth, trying to encase his entire length.
“Yes, you dirty bitch,” he muttered as she worked beneath him. “You’re going to drown in my spooge. You’re going to choke and cough and I’m going to keep coming and coming…”
The music and dancing around them swelled and ebbed, and there were moments when Piangi’s bass voicing of Mephistopheles slipped so low that anyone near the Hell scenery might be able to hear Firmin if they happened to be listening. But Maude didn’t care. Her focus was on the long, slick cock that choked her every time it hit the back of her throat.
He played with her breasts, and she could tell he was getting close. She felt his come moving along the full length of his dick, shuttling along toward the head, where it would spurt into her welcoming mouth—and then suddenly he pulled back, out, away.
“I’m going to fuck your titties,” he said hoarsely, gathering up her breasts in his hands. In the warm red glow of the Hell around them, she could see the fervency in his eyes. “I’m going to fuck those lovely tits of yours!”
He slid his cock in the valley between them, and reached behind him to slide one hand through the juices drenching her sex. He tweaked her sex, and she jerked beneath him again in a small surprise of an orgasm, and then he took his dripping hand and wiped his cock with her juices. Her smell mingled with his, musky and delicious, and Maude could not take her eyes from his glistening cock.
Then, with his long, warm hands, he pushed her breasts together hard, forming a tight, constricting passage around his cock. And then he started to stroke. Back and forth, the head of his cock bumping into her chin, his thumbs teasing her nipples as he worked back and forth in a heated frenzy. He looked down, watching, never taking his eyes from the slip and slide of his cock between her breasts. Maude had never been fucked like this before, and her labia constricted and swelled, and wanted that delicious wand inside her.