He had dreamed of Cassandra every night since the attack, terrible visions of the high speed battle on the road tempered with intimate fantasies about the warrior woman who helped fight off the thirsters. In his drug-fueled imagination Cassandra would return with Zara, unharmed and whole, then the young warrior would open herself to him. He knew lust when he was faced with it, and she was easily the most attractive woman he’d ever laid eyes on, yet there was something different about her. Some base animal level connection that he could not describe, even to himself, the articulation of it seeming to defy his best efforts. This alluring and mysterious woman who dragged him to safety and stood over him, fighting till the last of the ghouls had fled into the desert with their bloody masters. The woman who brought him to the medicae, and who, when she thought he wasn’t looking, wept as the medicae told her there was no hope for Rook.
This was a hard world, a world with little room for tears, especially for a stranger, yet there she was. Had his plight somehow struck a chord with this bounty killer? Such warriors were lone wolves, fighting only for profit or survival, never ideals or altruism. When she made the promise to find his daughter it shocked him more than her tears, and turned his desire for her body into something much deeper. He knew he was dying, but the kindness of this stranger had stoked the embers of his inner fire, and he fought for life, even if barely clinging to it.
Such were his dreams, and as he felt a lithe feminine body crawl on top of him, he kept his eyes closed, sure that he was hallucinating a more comforting end to his life than his brain slowly suffocating as his punctured lungs gave up the struggle. Yet the body felt so real, the hands that took hold of his manhood causing such vivid sensations, he began to question his sanity, and opened his eyes.
Cassandra had straddled Rook, and as he watched she lowered herself onto him, his erect cock disappearing into her beautiful body. He could not believe what he was seeing, or what he was feeling, and feebly raised himself up on his elbows as she began to move herself up and down on his thick shaft. Cassandra leaned forward and put a hand behind his head, moving his face to hers and kissing him deeply. She opened her Power to him even as she opened her body to him, and tendrils of energy began to entwine them both. She had expended everything she had siphoned from the thirsters and ghouls, yet had her own life-force to give, and it flowed into Rook. The pallor of his skin began to warm, and the bullet holes that had punctured his chest and abdomen began to close. Strength slowly returned to his limbs and Rook found himself moving his hands across Cassandra’s breasts and gripping her waist firmly. He began moving with her, thrusting his cock upwards as she brought her pussy gliding downwards upon it. Their eyes met and held each other’s gaze, their lips close but not touching, and sharing the same breath as their bodies collided passionately. Rook felt Cassandra’s pussy begin to quake, and her breaths became short and high pitched as she neared orgasm, the knowledge of which pushed him over the edge. Rook groaned as he came, fountaining deep inside her as she brought her lips to his ear, whispering, “Accept my sacrifice,” to him even as a quiet orgasm shuddered through her body before she collapsed upon his chest.
She was barely conscious when Rook lifted her from the cot, and took little notice of the strange sites to be seen in the streets of Las Vegas as he moved through the city. She had a brief glimpse of Zara, clothes and body recovered from her ordeal in the wilderness, though her eyes were clouded with storms of inner strife. Cassandra wanted to reach out to the girl, to comfort her, to tell her that even in this hard life there were good things. For all the blood, sweat, and tears there was also goodness, and though it had taken her a lifetime to find it, she knew she had. It seemed a cruel irony though, only now, as she lay helpless and fading, that she accept her feelings for a man she had only known for a few fleeting moments. She had first seen him standing there, on top of a rusted old truck, firing a shotgun at the raiders as he put himself between the enemy and the other refugees. They had fought together, lost Zara together, and it was only when he lay bleeding in her arms that he smiled and asked her name. Sex came easily to Cassandra, so fundamental to her being that it was as natural and shameless as breathing, yet to feel a genuine emotional connection with another person, however fleeting, had been alien to her. She had glimpses of her small living quarters, a modest makeshift apartment in the second story of what had once been a thriving casino of the old world. The faces of Zara and Rook would fade in and out as Cassandra was dimly aware of lying on her cot, sometimes being fed water or soup. She had turned her Power outwards, and poured her own life-force into Rook, in that moment seeing the man that he really was, and being thankful that the man she saw was the sort who was worth the gamble, who was worth the sacrifice. People had to cling to whatever rays of light this life presented them, she thought to herself, though it seemed that Rook’s face was in hers whispering the same thing.
She felt a comfortable teasing of her womanhood, and became aware that she was naked as hands rough from work began to caress her body. She felt the rough scratch of stubble on her inner thigh, and then the soft flick of a tongue on her awakening clit. Instinctively she opened her Power and tendrils of energy began to swirl around her. As the licking intensified she felt a surge of energy and sank her tendrils into whoever was pleasuring her. Instantly she knew it was Rook, his farmer’s hands massaging her breasts and caressing her stomach as he worked his tongue around her. He was giving himself to her freely, offering up what life-force he had to keep her from sinking into oblivion. She took all that she dared and broke the connection, pushing his face away from her with some of the small measure of strength she had gained before passing out again.
More dreams of battle and of loss plagued her sleep, and yet again she awoke to Rook’s tongue lapping at her pussy, coaxing her Power to take more from him. She was getting stronger, taking only small amounts of energy from him before stopping. She awoke once more to Rook’s tongue, and this time let him carry her away to a moaning orgasm with his talents, holding her Power in check as she savored him. She lifted his chin and pulled his body up and across hers, both of them gasping with pleasure as she guided his cock into her. They made love then, the slow and deep sort that only comes from mutual trust and passion, the kind made between gods and men.
EPILOGUE
The vultures and crows had come to the compound and begun to pick clean the corpses of the dead, though none approached the corpse of the fat man. Something about the body made them keep their distance. The body shuddered, and something alive squirmed its way out of the dead man’s mouth, falling to the ground with a wet smack. It had a reticulated body, and pushed itself along by sending ripples through its muscles to propel itself forward. A crow was caught unawares, and the thing snatched it with tentacles that suddenly sprouted from one of the puckered orifices on its slimy body. The crow cawed, and was no more. More birds screeched, and more birds died. At sunrise the next day no birds remained in the silent camp, and a lone figure walked into the desert, heading towards Las Vegas.
To be continued…
Body Shrine (Savage Erotica) Page 4