by Lola Swain
I crawled up his body and planted my knees on either side of him and positioned myself over his cock. The head of his cock was wet with his pre-cum and I reached back and swirled my finger around it and popped it into my mouth. I eased down on his cock slowly and gasped as the head of his cock burrowed into my wet pussy.
Inch by inch, I impaled myself on James as I completely relaxed my muscles mid-way down his shaft and my pussy accepted him with ease. Finally, when he was completely inside of me, I contracted my stomach muscles and began a slow ascent back up his hard rod.
He stared into my eyes and bit his bottom lip. His hands reached out and grabbed my breasts and he pinched my nipples between his fingertips. I reached behind my body and raked my fingernails lightly against his balls and his legs shook like a dog’s when you find his sweet spot. He took a sharp breath in and stared at the ceiling.
The power I felt as I gazed at him, witnessing the dominance I had over him at that moment, was immense and that strength alone turned me on almost as much as his cock did.
“Sophia, I’m having a hard time,” James said.
“Relax, this is just for you.”
The more control he tried to exercise, the harder I attempted to fuck away his restraint. I pulsed the muscles of my pussy rapidly over his cock as I slowly came up and down along his shaft and he clawed at my stomach and closed his eyes.
“Look at me,” I said. “I want you to look into my eyes when I’m fucking you.”
James did as he was told and I decided it was time to reward him.
Without warning, I slammed my pussy down on his cock and fucked him vigorously. I fucked him not as if we had infinite time together, but as if it was the very last time we would. Over and over again, I bounced up and down on his cock and I reached behind and felt his balls retract as he moaned.
“Fuck, I’m cumming.”
I lifted my pussy all the way up to the head of James’s cock and slammed back down onto him, digging my knees into the chaise and clamping my legs around his torso.
“Fuck!” James said and thrust his hips up, almost lifting me off the couch.
I felt him deep inside and my muscles convulsed around his pumping cock as I came.
“Go deeper,” I said.
James bent his knees and planted his feet into the sofa and lifted me up as he bent his back. I fell forward onto his chest and buried my face into his neck. He wrapped his arms around me and we slept.
When we woke, James and I studied both the morning and afternoon editions of the Boston Globe. The tone of the articles indicated that there was no question that Bobby Allen was my murderer. My parents released a statement through their lawyer Michael Tavish which stated that while they were deeply shocked by the news of my secret marriage to Brandt Therrault, they would work with their new son-in-law to see that justice was served.
“When will you be buried?” James said as he poured steaming coffee from a carafe he stole off a room service cart into big, white Battleroy Hotel mugs.
“Well, I’m not sure,” I said and took one of the mugs from him. “My parents haven’t been in contact with me to see when I’m available.”
“Cute,” James said and took a sip of his coffee as he sat down on the couch. “Man, that’s good. They finally switched from Columbian to Arabica beans. It makes a huge difference, really.”
“So, you’re a connoisseur of coffee?”
“I’m a connoisseur of a lot of things,” James said and spanked my ass. “No, I asked about your burial because different religions bury their dead at different times. Some are strict and some are loosey-goosey about it.”
“Well, I’m Catholic, if that makes a difference.”
“Was Catholic,” James said. “I suppose it will be within the week sometime, depending when your body is released from the Medical Examiner. From what we’ve been reading, it seems they think they have their man so I don’t think they’ll be keeping your body on ice for very much longer.”
“Except, they most certainly do not have their man,” I said. “Why are you so interested in my funeral? It’s not like we’ll be attending.”
“The Law states on the day the physical form gets committed to the ground or the crematorium, the Spirit goes through the Passage Ceremony.”
“Passage Ceremony?” I said as I set James’ mug on the coffee table and crawled into his lap.
“Yeah, I know, kind of a hokey name, but, that’s what it has always been called.”
“And what, pray tell, is a Passage Ceremony?”
“Well,” James said as he stroked a piece of hair off my forehead, “we all come together and the one who is being committed renounces the earthly Father and the Earthly God. They then accept the Father of the Underworld and the God of Death as their supreme deities. It’s actually a lot of fun.”
“Yeah, sounds like a real hoot,” I said. “Do we sacrifice virgins and goats too?”
“No, smart ass, your body was the sacrifice. After the ritual, you are officially able walk among the others and we all then become your brothers and sisters.”
“Even you?” I said and wiggled my ass against James’ hardening bulge.
“Even me,” he said and laughed. “Kinky, huh, fucking your brother? But, it’s a part of our religion.”
“What religion, though?” I said. “I didn’t pay a lot of attention in Catechism class, but it sounds as if you referred to the Devil.”
“No, he’s not one of ours,” James said and licked the side of my neck. “Those figures were simply invented by man to control and frighten. Our Gods are all about free-will and love.”
“Loving? The Father of the Underworld and the God of Death don’t sound very loving.”
“They are loving to us as long as we follow the Laws. Our religion, our Universe, is governed by the supreme Laws of our Father Hades and our God Thanatos.”
“Greek mythology?” I asked.
“Well, they are Greek, but drop the myth part. It is very real.”
“But why Greek-based worship?”
“It’s not just Greek-based worship. This land existed long before the Nauset and Adelaide. We believe in the ancient Gods, the Gods of the elements.”
“And this Ceremony’s purpose is to invoke those Gods?”
“Yes, to invoke the Gods and also, to meet the others,” James said as he pulled my breasts out from the top of my dress.
“So, the Ceremony is sort of like a supernatural cotillion?” I said and giggled. “I’m coming out to the Battleroy society?”
“Exactly!” James said and kissed the top of my breasts. “Plus, you get to stay in the Alchemist Suite in the tower the night before and after the ritual. John F. Kennedy, Jr. stayed in that suite as well as a ton of celebrities and luminaries.”
“Wow, so if JFK died here, he’d be considered my brother too?”
“Yep, if he died here,” James said and popped one of my nipples into his mouth and sucked on it for a moment. “No one leaves here when they die here.”
“But, why is that? Why in this place and not the ice cream parlor down the street?”
“Who knows what goes on at that place or any other after death? I only know about this place because I’ve not been to any other.”
“So, are there famous people who died here?”
“Besides me?” James said and winked.
“Nice to see that modesty made it to the party. Yes, besides you.”
“Yes, no Hollywood-types, but some musicians, a few academics, writers…you’ll see,” James said and pushed my hair aside and nibbled on my earlobe. “Take your clothes off. These intellectual conversations make my cock hard.”
“Yes,” I said and rubbed my ass back and forth against James’ hard cock, “I can feel that.”
“I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it.”
Mark Twain
On June 30, 1967, seven days after my death and the same day that my body was committed
to Star of The Sea Cemetery in Marblehead, Massachusetts, my soul was committed to the Battleroy Hotel. The ritualistic service the others refer to as a Passage Ceremony was officiated by Adelaide and her lover Jonas Dashiell in the rose garden.
As James said was customary, I was taken to the hotel’s elaborate Alchemist Suite the night before the Ceremony. James stayed with me as my guest and we dressed in the opulent velvet robes the hotel provides to their most revered guests. We had a ball pretending we were dignitaries and jumped up and down on the huge, down canopied bed while we guzzled expensive champagne right out of their vintage bottles.
“What do you think?” James said as he pushed me down on top of the bed and crawled on top of my body.
“Hmmm, what do I think?” I said and looked around the room. “I think that I wish this was my honeymoon and that you were my husband.”
“Then it shall be,” James said and lifted up on his elbows and pulled my robe open.
“No,” I said as he nuzzled my neck, “I’m serious.”
“And so am I,” James said and parted my legs with his knees. “Feel how serious I am.”
James thrust his hard cock into me to the root and stared into my eyes as I arched my back and met him.
“Do you feel that?” James said.
“Yes, I feel that.”
“And you understand I’m serious?”
“Yes,” I said and gasped as he rocked his hips back and forth.
“I don’t believe you, Sophia,” James said into my ear. “So, I will stay as still as possible and you will not receive your reward until you know I’m telling the truth.”
“You are so mean,” I said. “I’ve been pretty open about my feelings for you, James. How do I know that when the next jealous, pretty young girl comes along and dies at the hotel, you won’t be along to sweep her off her feet?”
“Do you think I’m the Battleroy’s initiator of jealous, virginal-types?” James said as he nibbled on my earlobe.
“I suppose not, but I still wonder. I mean, if I’m to be here for an eternity and I feel as I do about you, what happens to me if you decide to cast me aside? I’m stuck and fucked.”
“As in life, there are no guarantees.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“But, the same could be said for me. You say you love me and you want to be with me for an eternity, but what happens to me if in two years, Sean Connery is staying here and ends up taking a tumble down the stairs and breaks his neck? What if he sees you and decides he must have you?”
“Sean Connery?” I said and smiled. “No question…you’re out.”
James looked at me and frowned.
“I’m kidding. I promise, if Sean Connery should happen to live here, I will not even look in his direction,” I said and clenched my legs around his waist.
“I think you’re missing my larger point.”
“No, I get it. There are no guarantees and that whole one day at a time shit, I get it. You just need to remember that a big reason that I am in my situation is because of jealousy and the need for me to possess.”
“I understand and I am sensitive to that. And I too, have a need to possess.”
“Well, finally,” I said as James resumed his thrusts.
I dug my fingernails into his back as he slammed his wide cock in and out of my pussy. He grabbed the sides of my head and forced me to look into his eyes.
“I want you to remember something, Sophia,” James said through clenched teeth as he fucked me, “you belong to me. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” I said.
“No matter what happens…your mind, your soul, your pussy belongs to me. You are mine.”
James arched into me and gripped my shoulders as he came, pressing me deep into the bed. We fell together, he and I.
The next morning I opened my eyes as James walked toward the bed holding a huge silver tray filled with all sorts of culinary goodies.
“Where did you get that?” I said as he set the tray on the bed.
“One of the others, a usually grumpy fellow named Heinrich Trimmel. He was a chef and usually cooks for all of us after the kitchen closes. He put this together just for your special day.”
“Wow,” I said as I plucked a delicate blueberry petit four off the tray and shoved it into my mouth. “Yummy.”
“I’m glad you like it. Coffee?”
“Yes,” I said as the lemon and vanilla-perfumed pastry cream filled my mouth. “Oh, that was fantastic. How did Heinrich come to be here?”
“That is a most ironic case,” James said as he fed me a chocolate covered strawberry. “Scombroid.”
“Huh?”
“Food poison,” James said and sat down on the bed next to me. “In 1902, Heinrich was here with a group of chefs from around the world checking out the Battleroy’s gourmet kitchen. At the time, the kitchen was known to be the most advanced and elaborate of any professional kitchen in the world. Heinrich noticed a tin of sardines half-opened on one of the prep tables and asked the sous chef how they were going to be used.
“The sous chef explained that a Battleroy employee caught one of the guests opening the tinned sardines in the lobby. Horrified that any Battleroy guest would eat canned fish, the employee snatched the tin out the guest’s hand and ordered the kitchen to make him an appetizer with fresh fish.”
“And Heinrich ate the canned sardines?” I said as I nibbled on a wedge of spinach quiche.
“Yep, Heinrich ate the sardines. It was a trick among the chefs, actually. They mixed the poisoned sardines into a dip and wanted to test Heinrich to see if he could tell the fish was canned as he was rumored to have one of the most discerning palates in the world. Of course, it was not their intention to kill him and they had no idea the sardines were infected with scombroid but their trick was definitely our gain.”
“Man, a chef dying from food poisoning,” I said and foraged through my delicious treats.
“Well, it’s getting late and it’s time for me to leave,” James said and stood from the bed.
“Leave? But, why?”
“Because, I have to be gone before your lady-in-waiting arrives to prepare you for your Ceremony and I have my own list of things to do,” James said and threw a grape in the air and caught it in his mouth.
“I get a lady-in-waiting?”
“You sure do…Céline, a beautiful and sexy French vamp who used to be a famous Courtesan in Paris,” James said and kissed the top of my head. “Fantastic girl.”
“Fantastic? And I assume you’ve had this girl?”
“And I suppose you want me to be honest?” James said and swirled his finger in a giant silver bowl of whipped cream.
“Is there any other way to be?”
“Yes, I have had Céline,” James said and sighed. “But that was a long time ago and she is with Patrick now.”
“I understand,” I said. “Seriously, I do. I’ve been with other people, person, and of course, you’ve been with other people. It’s not a big deal.”
“Sophia?” James said as he cocked his head.
“I’m being honest,” I said.
“You belong to me, remember? I’m going now,” James said and kissed the top of my head. “See you tonight.”
When James left, I inhaled the rest of the food on the tray: lobster tails, wedges of warm brie baked inside a thick bread with apple slices, fresh peach cobbler with vanilla bean ice cream and thick slices of chocolate cheesecake.
When there was nothing left but crumbs, I fell back into the down pillows and slept.
“Good evening, Sophia,” a woman said in a French accent.
I opened my eyes and twisted my head up. A beautiful girl with long, wavy platinum hair stood beside the bed.
“Evening?” I said and rubbed my eyes. “I didn’t think I slept that long.”
“That’s okay, it’s not as if you had to be at a job now, is it? I am Céline,” she said. “I’m here to prepare you for your Ceremony.�
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“Yes,” I said and pulled the sheet over my breasts as I sat up in the bed, “James told me that you would be here.”
“James says that you and he have been spending much time together. We all love James.”
“Yes, I’ve gathered. I’ve heard only a little about you,” I said.
“Oh, yeah?” Céline said and smiled. “What have you heard?”
“That you were a very famous—”
“Whore?” Céline said.
“No,” I said and shook my head. “Courtesan.”
“Same difference,” she said and giggled. “May I open the shades?”
“Of course,” I said and tried to fix my hair.
I watched Céline saunter across the room and understood why James fucked her. She wore a tight, pin-striped pencil skirt and a white cotton blouse that was unbuttoned to the middle of her chest. On her feet she wore glossy black patent leather pumps. Her body was insane: big tits, small waist that curved in and back out to her hips and an amazing ass.
Céline opened the drapes and turned and held up her arms.
“That’s better, no? You get an amazing view of all the twinkling lights from the tower.”
“Yes,” I said and craned my neck as I looked out the window.
Céline walked to the cafe table in the corner of the bedroom that was set with a silver coffee set and held up a coffee cup.
“I brought a coffee service. How do you take it?”
“Just cream please,” I said.
“No sugar? You’re sweet enough, I’m sure,” she said and smiled as she held the silver creamer high and poured it into the cup. “Are you hungry?”
“Um, no,” I said as I pushed the silver food tray to the edge of the bed with my foot. “I ate a little.”
“I love cream,” she said as she stirred my coffee with an elegant teaspoon. “You know I had a lover once, Italian, who made me crawl along his bedroom floor for cream, can you imagine?”
“Sounds interesting,” I said.
“Oh, believe me, it was,” she said and smiled as she walked toward the bed. “May I sit?”
“Of course, please,” I said and took the coffee cup from Céline’s delicate hand.