Eshabaar is right about one thing at least. Nathan Thorne should have nothing to do with the financial future of the company.
Andrew checked his phone and saw no new messages from his errant brother. Typical. He’s probably betting on a pit bull fight in the city, his thousand dollar suit speckled by blood as he tosses wads of cash into the pot. Andrew walked over to the pod and saw Thaddeus sleeping at his terminal. Microphones were blaring heavy metal music into his ears as he drooled on his keyboard. No doubt trying to block out the Sisters’ howls.
The surrogates had been unusually savage when they reentered the bath, their faces animalistic as they clawed at the earth mother and fought over her dangling breasts. Emma had passed out and sunk beneath the surface, and Andrew had to grab her by the wrist and shelter her in a corner while the goddess fed her flock. It was a voracious feeding. Both Ramona and Trisha had drawn blood from the goddess’s breasts, their teeth breaking skin as they glugged down as much milk as possible.
When it was over, Eshabaar had floated on the surface of the milk bath for a few minutes, her eyes closed and her usually flawless hair fanned lazily around her head. She appeared so emaciated and exhausted that Andrew feared for her life, but when he started to swim to her, she dipped beneath the milk and disappeared.
She doesn’t like to display her weakness, especially after a feeding like that. Andrew noticed the rain and wind buffeting the exterior of the compound when he looked at the outside camera feed. She better get back soon. This storm looks like its settling in for the long haul.
His thoughts were disturbed by the vibrations of his phone. Desmond. The last time the haggard servant called had been the day of his mother’s passing. Wonder what he has in store now. “Des, its Andrew.”
“Mr. Thorne, I just received an urgent phone call from Nathan. He is coming down here to the old house. Apparently there has been an unfortunate incident at a nightclub…”
The Bloodhound was never the bearer of good tidings.
“Well, I’m a little preoccupied over here. Tell him to clean up his own mess; he’s made enough of them, he should know the drill. I can’t be the guy bailing him out forever.” He hated saying these words, but his hand had been forced by Nathan’s constant recklessness.
“I agree entirely, Andrew. But this matter is rather sensitive. You see, he is talking of selling his stake in the company to a Japanese conglomerate, something about diversification. The Japanese are natural competitors, so I felt it imperative to contact you at once. He was rambling, I grant you, but I think I got the gist. Andrew? Andrew, are you there?”
The phone fell from his fingers as he ran out into the torrential rain and jumped into his car.
Stupid, selfish cocksucker! He’s sold his share to one of our competitors? Has he lost his fucking mind? As he steered through the downpour and raced to the nearby Thorne Manor, he reflected bitterly that it may be too late to save the company from Nathan’s flagrant incompetence and irrationality. Blown sludge sprayed from his tires as he rounded corners at breakneck pace, driven both by mindless anger and an unspeakable fear of the things that he could lose. Eshabaar. The Sisters. And Emma… Her most of all…
The old house was a rambling skeleton of its former self, but Desmond kept everything running fairly smoothly. It looked desolate behind the sheets of rain, but Desmond was waiting outside. He was holding a lantern over his cadaverous skull when Andrew parked his car in the driveway. The old housekeeper was pacing nervously in the onslaught, the umbrella in his other hand vainly trying to stave off the rain.
Andrew took a deep breath and gazed at the towering parapets and the gnarled gargoyles flanking the huge double doors. The playground of the blessed Thorne twins is now a tomb awaiting demolition. How could everything possibly have changed so much?
He climbed out the car and walked over to the Bloodhound.
“Where is he, Des? I’m going to fucking flay him for this. Is he in the study?”
Desmond looked at him with the bloodshot, heavily-lidded eyes that had earned him his moniker.
“I’m afraid Nathan is attending to another matter. Begging your pardon, but what is the matter with your face?”
“My face,” blurted out Andrew confusedly before the poor sap hidden inside the umbrella crashed into the side of his head and knocked him unconscious.
“Yes, Sir,” grumbled the caretaker as he stood over Andrew’s slumped body, the scene bathed in the lantern’s eerie yellow light.
“It’s awfully familiar.” He chuckled to himself as he dragged Andrew’s body into Thorne Manor.
Chapter Thirteen: Esther Thorne’s True Love
Andrew Thorne’s head throbbed viciously when he regained consciousness, and he discovered his hands were bound behind his back when he tried to move them. He was restrained in a sitting position, his aching back pressed hard against a cold stone pillar. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized where he was, rows of rotting books looming over his bound body in the cavernous hulk of his father’s old study.
What the fuck? Where the hell is Nathan?
“Unfortunately, your brother won’t be joining us.” The Bloodhound stepped into view in front of Andrew, his cadaverous face illuminated by a flickering lantern he held above his head. In his other hand, he held an antique revolver, its silver cylinder glimmering in the lantern’s eerie yellow glow. Desmond chuckled when he noticed Andrew staring at the gun.
“Your father’s weapon, the one your mother used to blow his unsuspecting brains out.” He walked up to Andrew and pressed the barrel against his trembling temple.
“Your mother gave it to me after the ambulance carted Eliot away and asked me to get rid of it. Said she had no more use for the silly old relic. I, on the other hand, have something of a soft spot for relics. You never know when they might come in handy.”
Andrew craned his head away from the black circle of the barrel, his breathing shallow as he struggled to understand. “My father killed himself…”
“Hmmm, a lie your mother told so eloquently she probably believed it herself. But I know everything that happened in this old house.” He knelt down in front of Andrew and stroked his face with a liver-spotted hand.
“These old eyes are always watching, and I was lurking in the shadows when Esther Thorne sent your father to perdition. In fact, it happened on the very spot where you’re sitting now. This bloodhound has an eye for pleasing symmetries.”
What is he talking about? Everyone knew that Eliot Thorne was a manic depressive who ate a bullet when his sons were still children. “What…why are you…?”
“Why did I hit you over your milk soaked-head and tie you to a fucking pillar? Let’s just say I prefer your brother. At least Nathan knows how to treat a faithful dog.” He pistol whipped Andrew with the weapon, the blow smashing into his mouth with brutish force. Andrew spit out two of his teeth in a dumbstruck daze, blood pouring down his chin as shivers of searing pain raced through his face.
“Anyway, enough chatting for now. Nathan will be in Laguna within the hour, and the mountains will be soaked with the milk harlots’ foul blood. Oh, don’t think I’m unaware of the abominations at the foot of the mountain. I have known since you boys were still suckling at your mother’s teats.” Desmond smiled noxiously as he rose to his feet, lightning cracking outside and painting his grinning skull a brilliant white.
“But the age of Eshabaar is nearing its end, and Nathan Thorne will claim his rightful place as the head of the Thorne dynasty.”
Andrew was still failing to comprehend everything, but he knew that he needed to get back to the compound before his deranged brother.
You must get out of here and save Eshabaar and the Sacred Sisters. You must escape these fetters and rescue Emma from the impending carnage.
“Where is he?” Andrew had to try and reason with Nathan. His brother may be unstable, but surely he would not harm his own flesh and blood.
“He will come see you when the purge
is complete. I am to keep an eye on you until he arrives.” Desmond looked at his pocket watch and smiled, “I forgot to mention, Nathan has promised me a gift for my faithful service. He will let me take your slut to bed. The servants’ chambers get awfully chilly when you’re alone, but Ms. Lake’s gorgeous tits look like they could warm a dead man’s hand.”
Desmond kicked Andrew hard in the stomach when he began to flail and curse. Andrew clawed desperately at his bound wrists, but his captor had secured them with sadistic precision. “I’ll fucking kill you, Desmond,” he screamed when the Bloodhound left the room, the serpent whistling as he twirled the revolver with his surprisingly dexterous fingers.
“Don't you dare touch her, you worthless son of a bitch!” Blood blurred his vision as his voice grew hoarse, futility washing over him as the fight drained from his limbs.
Andrew marveled at the reversal of his fortunes as rain dripped onto his disheveled black hair. A few hours ago you were immersed in Mother’s Milk, your cock thrusting inside Emma while she fed from Eshabaar’s holy breasts. Now Nathan threatens to destroy everything as you sit trapped in the ruins of Thorne Manor, and the only person who can hear your forlorn pleas is the treacherous Bloodhound.
Andrew had never liked the reticent servant. Tonight was the most he had ever heard him speak, and the words that leaked from his cracked old lips filled Andrew with suffocating dread. Emma…
The wind was howling like a thousand shrieking children as Andrew’s fingers began to pick uselessly at his restraints. He knew he had to continue trying, even if escape seemed impossible. Nathan had chosen the perfect night to massacre Eshabaar and the Sacred Sisters. The earth mother would be reinvigorating herself with the mountain’s seed and her defenses would be lowered, and the Sisters were likely still recovering from the afternoon’s frenzied purification and the ensuing fuck fest.
Andrew had been tiring of his brother’s mercurial moods and unprofessionalism, but this was the first time in his life he tasted hate for his black-hearted twin. Nathan is not the same shy boy you played with and chased through these decaying walls. He offered Emma’s sweet flesh to Desmond’s grimy fingers, and he plans to kill the only deity you’ve ever worshipped. He will die slowly if anything happens to the sacred feminine…
You must try to forgive him, Andrew. The child is governed by weakness and fear. He worships your father, but he has forgotten the truth about Eliot Thorne’s darkest passions… Andrew flinched when the honeyed voice snaked through his head. For a second he thought it was Eshabaar, but the earth mother was weakened and ensconced in the Laguna Mountain. Her voice could not reach him here. This voice was lighter and more fragile, uninflected by the supernatural gravity of gods.
Who are you? Andrew whispered telepathically as his fingers stopped scrabbling at the constricting rope. It occurred to him he might be losing his mind and talking to ghosts in the haunted shell of his youth.
Agatha, you sweet boy. I am upstairs in your mother’s room. Thaddeus put me in a vat of Mother’s Milk and moved me here earlier this afternoon after I requested to see Esther Thorne’s bed again. I am the first of my kind, and Thaddeus would never refuse me anything. I like to look upon the bed, even though I know she is beyond me now. We created many memories here, our bodies entwined and our skin humming with the electricity of our love.
Andrew glanced toward the ceiling, imagining the blonde Sister submerged in a mobile tank of milk, white foam bubbling at the corners of her lips. How can you speak to me? None of the other Sisters are blessed with Eshabaar’s mind-speak.
When you are perpetually in the milk bath the liquid ecstasy dulls the necessity for all other senses. We lose our ability to communicate beyond the ageless language of hunger and flesh. But I always moved in and out to share your mother’s bed, so I preserved a sliver of my former humanity. I remained open to the inner voice your mother taught to me and passed on to you.
Andrew was confused. I thought the mind-speak was Eshabaar’s gift.
Agatha laughed gently. Eshabaar is a goddess and she can dance inside our minds with ridiculous ease, but she did not impart the gift on you. The telepathy was your mother’s blessing and her primary tool of seduction when she chose me to be her secret lover. You may know that I was the first Sister, but you cannot remember I was also once your nanny. That is how I met your mother and fell in love with her. When she discovered Eshabaar and the primal magic of her milk, I offered myself as the first vessel for the earth mother’s children. Esther agreed, but she would not let go of me completely. She still needed me in her bed, suckling at her breasts and whispering with her in the dark. When Eliot discovered us wrapped in each other’s arms, the sight of his wife submitting to the attentions of a woman broke his already fragile mind.
Andrew gulped as lightning blinded his crying eyes. So it is true, about my father?
There was a moment’s silence before Agatha’s choked voice reappeared in his mind.
Your mother was a wonderful woman, and I loved her more than feeble words can articulate. She did kill your father, but it was not for the affair alone. We shared secrets as we tasted each other’s skin, and she revealed her fears and doubts. At first, it was a mere shadow in her mind, but as time passed and Nathan retreated further into himself, she began to suspect the terrible truth.
A few days after Eliot walked in on us, she saw bruises on Nathan’s back. Her suspicions were later confirmed when she witnessed Eliot going off like a madman on his tiny victim. After that, she walked toward his study with his cold gun in her hand and scorching hate in her shattered heart.
Andrew shivered as he remembered a squelchy monster chasing two boys through a rain-battered house, its fetid breath infecting their young lungs. Did he, hurt me?
No. You were always the stronger one, the outspoken child. Nathan was more introverted and pliable, so it was he who suffered your father’s all-consuming sickness. Nathan eroded as the abuse continued, and the man you know today is truly not the boy you once loved. That boy died a hundred times within these walls. It is a pity that Eliot could only die the once.
Andrew swallowed down a sob as he thought of two boys dressed in matching black suits at their father’s funeral. He remembered his mother’s stone-faced expression as she held her sons’ tiny shoulders, their father’s destroyed skull mercifully hidden beneath a closed casket. He recalled Nathan’s clammy hand in his own, his fingers clenching as the priest ushered Eliot Thorne into the embrace of his heavenly father and eulogized about the two innocent boys he left behind. The priest was wrong, thought Andrew. There was only one innocent child standing beside that sinking casket. The other’s naivety lay buried in the stony ground alongside his father’s bones.
The storm was growing wilder by the minute, and he could hear the house groaning beneath the torrent like a sleeping beast. The time grows near Andrew. You must go back and save your mother’s work. Nathan may be beyond your help, but the others need you now.
Andrew laughed ironically as he kicked his feet against the floor in frustration. There’s not much I can do about it. I’m trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
You are not the only person in Laguna blessed with mind-speak, Andrew. Help is on its way.
Andrew heard raised voices from outside followed by the sharp crack of a gunshot. He tensed his body as he heard footsteps approaching in the gathering dark. He was about to launch into an obscenity-laden tirade when he realized it wasn’t the Bloodhound kneeling behind him with blood covering his pale hands.
“Don’t look so surprised to see me, Andy,” said Thaddeus as he began working at the fiendish knots. When the knot was released, Andrew hugged his rescuer and kissed his shaven head.
“Whoa, easy there Mr. Thorne. I know I just saved your ass, but that doesn’t mean I want to fuck it.”
“The Bloodhound?”
Thaddeus shrugged, “Let’s just say he isn’t going to sniff anything ever again. The ground out there is slippery, and old men are known
to fall.”
Andrew glanced up at the ceiling and smiled with broken lips. Thank you, Agatha, without you, we were doomed.
Do not celebrate just yet. Go! Your brother is already there.
Chapter Fourteen: Kill the Queen!
June Miyamori killed the sentries while Nathan did a line of blisteringly strong cocaine and waited for the all clear.
You are almost there Nathan. Your father’s work is nearly complete, and soon Krang will fill the mountain with his gelatinous tentacles and grind the cows’ corpses with his curved beak. He did another line as he watched the Japanese he-she walking back toward the car in feline strides, her semi-automatic sub-machine gun cradled in her arms like a child. The electronic gate behind her opened and gave a glimpse of the compound inside. The mountain was barely visible behind a veil of driving rain, and the orphanage’s gaudy lights shimmered like a mirage to the left of the milk parlor.
It is almost beautiful, thought Nathan as his unlikely lover climbed into the car. How could such a picaresque façade contain such filth and horror?
June flicked her purple hair from her face and licked flecks of blood from her fingertips.
“We’re in. As soon as we pull up to the entrance, you will need to jump out and swipe your keycard. I will turn the truck around and open the back when you expose the cows. Remember, your target is the earth mother. Head straight for her cave and kill the cunt while she sleeps. I will follow you to acquire Krang’s cock. The wrigglies will take care of the cows. They are restless and hungry, I can feel it in my gut.”
Nathan nodded and leaned in for a final kiss. They had fucked a few times on the way here, and Nathan’s asshole was stinging from June’s relentless cock while her cunt’s sweet juices were drying on his lips and tongue. She recoiled from his touch and pointed at the building.
“We have a job to do, lover boy. Get your head out of my pussy and into the fucking game!”
He resisted the urge to slap her in the teeth and leaned against his window while she drove up to the compound.
Earth Goddess' Nectar: The Complete Novella: (Paranormal Fantasy Erotica) Page 8