Daughter of Man

by Aleisha Browne

  Daughter of Man

  By

  Aleisha Browne

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  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Daughter of Man

  Copyright ã 2007 Aleisha Browne

  ISBN: 978-1-55487-012-7

  Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books

  Look for us online at:

  www.extasybooks.com

  Dedicated to my Muse of Erotic Literature

  Chapter One

  Flight

  On the day Ellen was abducted, she was power walking home. Home was a terraced townhouse that she and Eric shared on a nondescript lane in the city. After the end of the working day, she wanted to head straight home to freshen up for the romantic dinner that Eric had planned that night. She made her first footsteps into the Park.

  One of the meandering paths through the Park was her oft-traveled route to and from work. It was entered from one side through an underpass and exited out the other by a gravel alley between two derelict, empty shops. The Park was overrun with weeds of every description, grasses up to the height of her waist and unkempt bushes that had been left to grow in an unruly fashion. Despite this, Ellen always enjoyed escaping from the busy humdrum of city traffic here for even as short a time as a few minutes each day going to and from work.

  The summer afternoon was progressing to twilight. With her hastening steps, Ellen was starting to perspire and she quickly tied up her wavy, brunette hair. Adjusting the handbag on her shoulder, she made the usual sharp turn right along a fork in the path. By habit, she glanced up, expecting to see the beginning of the gravel path that exited the Park.

  It was not there.

  Instead, the haphazard row of low trees and undergrowth stretched on for an indefinite distance. Her forehead creased into a slight frown as she had always been able to see the gravel path from this point. She was not concerned, only slightly confused after deducing that she must have taken the wrong path, as unlikely as this could be.

  She retraced her steps. Thinking excitedly about seeing Eric, she was absent-minded when she took the alternate path. Ellen was some way down this path before it broke into three. She had never encountered this before.

  “Damn it,” she muttered exasperatedly, looking for any familiar landmarks above the tree line, but the vegetation was overwhelmingly tall. She turned around again and went back the way she had come. As the shadows grew longer, unfamiliar thoughts flittered through her mind. Were the grasses clinging more to her legs as she brushed past? Did the scraggly branches of the bushes seem to claw at her arms and handbag?

  Snap out of it, she thought.

  She did not arrive back at the place where the path had broken into three. Instead it veered a sharp left which she had never encountered before, not even a few moments ago. Confusion was blooming into bewilderment. Thoughts of annoyance that she would be late were lost as the terrain became increasingly unfamiliar. She began to panic.

  Heart thumping, she nearly cried out when rounding another corner of clinging leaves, she came within a meter of stumbling into someone.

  “What—?”

  Her eyes widened in shock.

  A half-naked man stood before her. His perfectly muscled, naturally toned arms were folded carelessly and artfully across his broad, hairless chest. His admirable upper body tapered down over a well-ripped abdomen. Hanging almost effortlessly from his elegant waist were a pair of shimmering trousers of indescribable color—a confusing blue-gray that form-fitted to his perfectly muscled legs. These legs also seemed to be deliberately arranged, one crossed over the other as he leaned against a burned-out hollow trunk.

  His pose of nonchalant arrogance gave the impression that somehow he had beckoned her and had waited for her for an indeterminable amount of time. Now that she was finally here, the moment seemed to hang in the balance—the shocking and unexpected were waiting to be unleashed.

  Ellen could not help but blush, admiring this perfection of masculine physiognomy. She glanced up at his face.

  And gasped.

  His ice-blue eyes gazed at her hungrily, predatorily.

  His sensual lips held a slight audacious curve, poised like those of a dangerous seducer.

  She could not believe that sensible her almost swooned at the sight of him. She felt a rush of inexplicable faintness. The periphery of her vision blurred. He still had not uttered a word. How could she feel like she was falling under his spell?

  A small voice screamed from somewhere inside her, Get away now! Get back home now! Run!

  Like a panicked doe, she turned and blindly ran through the foliage. This time, her mind was not tricking her. All around, the branches threw themselves in front of her, deliberately slowing her flight. The grasses whipped her legs, attempting to send her sprawling to her face. The darkness of night descended in a few terrifying seconds. Nothing registering in her fear-gripped brain now made any reason or sense. Everything she had learned about the world as controllable and expected and known, like the existence of gravity and germs, disappeared in an instant. It was this instantaneous loss that sent her into a further frenzy of mindless terror.

  Her feet stumbled upon gravel and sobbing with relief, she extricated herself from the undergrowth. Something clammy touched her legs. Looking down, she saw ghostly fingers of thick white fog rise up to obscure the gravel path. They touched first her ankles and then moved up the bare skin of her legs, making her shiver. Then they slowly curled up her thigh—cold and moist.

  Almost crying, Ellen tried to shake them off and thoughtlessly chose again to flee. She ran a dozen steps.

  Before slamming into a body.

  The impact smashed the air from her lungs and her handbag fell from her grasp.

  Two arms flashed up to hold hers like vices. They imprisoned her tightly to a naked chest, the same chest that she had seen a few moments—eons ago.

  She shook, tried to struggle, couldn’t move.

  She was totally powerless. Fear stabbed at her behind the eyes and all over her head.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Help me!

  She couldn’t draw breath to scream.

  She had never been so absolutely entrapped.

  His breath upon her was heavy. His nose was so close that it was almost touching hers. Every time he breathed out, she was forced to breathe in his expulsion of air, which was causing her head to spin like she was drunk. His scent was not that of any cologne or aftershave or even any biological man-smell. It was a dizzying mixture of scents. In these seconds of wildness, she could perceive a blend of smells—of rain hitting damp soil, steam rising from hot water and the mist clinging to the rocks of a waterfall.

  She managed to lift her head to look up into his face—so close, it was petrifying. He filled her vision. Involuntarily, she flinched back from that mouth that was so impossibly close to h
ers. A strong hand firmly arrested her movement, holding her neck immobile in a half melting caress and half masterful grip.

  He leaned even closer still until the minute distance between them was almost nothing at all. His voice when he spoke was unlike any other man’s—deep, timeless, ageless. It affixed and stupefied her—made her lose all sense of self.

  “Do not be afraid, my Beloved.”

  He closed his cavernous mouth on hers and sucked out everything.

  Chapter Two

  Missing

  The shadow of a wilting red tulip in a crystal vase moved slowly across the coffee table. Also on the table were an empty bottle of whiskey, a small velvet box and an array of newspapers of various dates—some yellowed and others fresh off the press. Eric watched the stillness of these objects as if trying to discern the mystery of their existence. With a slightly shaking hand, he lifted a glass to his lips and downed the rest of the whiskey in one gulp. He swallowed the burning bitterness without feeling. He wished he could feel something, anything again.

  With the other shaking hand, he brushed aside a newspaper, which swept the velvet box onto the floor. Uttering a cry, he reached forward to catch it, but too late, it hit the tiled floor and broke. Out flew a ring of white gold, delicately holding a single flawless diamond.

  Seeing that made him break down again.

  He heaved dry sobs that shook his entire body as he wrapped his arms around himself.

  Where are you, Ellen? Come back to me, Baby.

  It had been four months. The pain was as powerful as on that day when she did not arrive for the candlelit dinner he had planned.

  Images whirled chaotically through his head.

  He was standing by the front window, hoping to catch the first sight of her. After four years together, tonight was to be the night when he would kneel and ask her to be his wife.

  I will tell her that after so many failed relationships, that she is the Love of my life and I want to be with her forever. Despite all my cynicism, I still believe in true love. And in her I have found it.

  It had taken him some time to work this out, but once decided he had never felt so revitalized and alive.

  The hours lengthened. The darkness loomed.

  Still, you did not come.

  Worry ate at me like dripping acid.

  Like one in a faraway dream, he picked up the phone and called everyone he could think of—her colleagues, friends, and family. Verging on nausea, he finally gathered his courage to dial the number for the police and report her disappearance.

  Could they hear the fear and the near hysteria in my voice?

  The police came and he told them about the park that she often walked through. They searched the park, calling out her name.

  If you are here, lost, hurt, can you not hear me, hear the love in my voice?

  Then one of the police officers shouted something. Like a man possessed, Eric sprinted towards him through the bushes and the police officer was there holding up her handbag with his gloved hand.

  His fears closed around his throat, strangling him. He couldn’t stop telling himself that everything was wrong. Ellen could not have dropped her handbag voluntarily. It seemed no money was taken, so the faceless foe didn’t have the motive of mugging her.

  Oh, where, where, where are you, my Angel?

  How could this be happening?

  How can happiness be snatched away from me like this?

  Afterwards, the police questioned him. He felt dead.

  “When was the last time you saw your girlfriend?”

  “Have you been fighting with her recently?”

  Before his shell-shocked mind could fully register their line of questioning, they bombarded him with even more questions.

  “Does she have life insurance?”

  “Was she going to leave you?”

  He heard his voice shout at them.

  “What? How can you suggest…ask…even think that I would harm her? I love her!”

  Then he pleaded piteously.

  “Oh, please, please, please find her and bring her back to me safe, I beg you!”

  He bought every paper that reported her as a missing person. There was still no response from the public and the police could not find any leads or a single clue.

  You have disappeared off the face of the earth.

  In a sudden movement, Eric stood up and swayed from the motion. He squinted around the darkening lounge-room that she had largely decorated. The beautiful paintings of heavenly paradise and exotic, deserted islands spoke of her touch so strongly he could almost feel her here.

  Without warning, the favorite fragrance that she always wore—of citrus and honey—washed over him unbidden and overwhelmed his senses. A past scene was enacted before him, as if the room was replaying memories of her presence like a seamless film. Through unsteady eyes, he watched himself stumble through the doorway. He was carrying her on his back. Flushed with mulled wine, their laughter filled the room with spicy desire. He staggered and almost fell, depositing her giggling form onto the sofa. And before he knew it, she had pulled him on top of her—snaking her legs around his waist and kissing him with fevered aggression.

  That was when he pulled away from her slightly, touching her pouting lip with a finger.

  “Kiss me softly,” he said.

  She leaned towards him again and did as he bid.

  Without knowing how, they soon had each other stripped bare in a series of entwining limbs and ardent caresses. She whipped out from some hidden drawer a set of handcuffs. Seeing the look of uncertainty on his face, she cajoled sultrily, “Come on, Eric. I know you aren’t into this kind of stuff. But I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Then she lowered her voice to a sexy undertone, “And maybe next time, you’d do it to me. I’d so like that.”

  Not wishing to spoil the moment, he assented to her will although determined that he would not involve her in any sort of bondage. It just wasn’t a turn-on for him. Their lovemaking was natural and amazing. No kinky extras should be needed. She and her beautiful body was all he required to be aroused and to arouse her in turn.

  Yes, her beautiful body.

  He watched helplessly, lying on his back and handcuffed to an arm of the sofa. She was straddling him, slightly gyrating her slick clit against his belly. His cock hardened. As she did this, she was sensuously massaging his temples and gently clawing her fingers through his hair. Her hot, nimble fingers moved down to rub in soothing circles the tense muscles at the back of his neck and shoulders.

  He loved the way she so attentively massaged his entire body every night. Her careful ministrations usually relaxed him but tonight, he grew even tenser. He wanted nothing else than to bury himself in the gorgeous slit between her legs—the secret place that she only opened up to him.

  She bent her head and he felt silky waves of her dark hair splash across his chest. And then, she was sucking one of his nipples, causing him to catch his breath. After what seemed like an endless amount of unstoppable teasing, she threw her head back and arched her slim body to give him a splendid frontal vision. She pushed her perky breasts together with her hands, rubbing her swollen aureoles as she moaned with intensifying pleasure. She ran her hands across her flat belly, over her rounded hips and onto her toned thighs. Involuntarily, he pulled against his handcuffs, the steel cutting into his wrists. He just wanted to touch what her hands touched. He wanted desperately to be those hands.

  In one swift move, she dismounted him.

  “What - ?” he started before gaping.

  She had pulled up a chair and was now sitting on it, with her legs spread wide apart, bent and pulled up against her shoulders. Her feet were resting on the arms of the chair and her pelvis was tilted so that he had the most breath-taking view in the world.

  Her pink pussy was like an oyster, opening to reveal a precious pearl. The dainty fingers of one hand moved like a butterfly to tease her folds. Then she pressed her pointer against her clit
and massaged it. Her body squirmed as she made noises that stirred him to frenzy. He struggled in vain against his restraints. He hated them.

  Her pointer and middle finger slid up and down the length of her opening. Then she pushed her middle finger into her vagina, a little in and out. She pushed in the second time a little deeper and then pulled it out.

  His mouth had gone dry.

  With her other hand, she began playing with one of her breasts.

  “Is this good for you?” she whispered.

  He found that he could not speak, but managed to nod.

  Then she pushed in and out with her finger faster and faster. Her moans were coming faster and faster. Then her finger was inside all the way and she was still pushing it in and pulling it out. Her whole body bucked a final time. Her breathless panting caught in her throat before she let loose a harsh cry of orgasm. As she did this, the end of his painfully erect cock released his pent-up seed. His arms were aching from the constant strain but he basked in his spent pleasure. She had made him come without touching him. She was just amazing.

  As the images faded, he was left drenched with cold sweat. Then he snapped his head up. Often of late, he had the distinct feeling of being watched when alone. He would obsessively search the house they had shared high and low but would find nothing and no one. In his heart of hearts, he harbored the impossible hope that she was back and that he could find her. But the search would always conclude in him feeling utterly crushed and defeated.

  Can I ever love again?

  Ellen, come back to me. Come back to me!

  Chapter Three

  Taken

  Her eyelids flew open.

  She blinked, taking in the glimmering play of light across the smooth, marbled ceiling. The light was soft and white. It shimmered like restless water. Then, she realized the rippling shimmer did become a thin sheen of water—as impossible as this could be. Her dazed eyes traced the flow across the ceiling, past the two silver columns of her bed to the far wall opposite. There, the water formed a gauzy curtain to cover a wall-to-wall painting. She could not discern what was on the painting. The water finally fell into a blue-tiled, shallow pool. The tinkling sound of it slapping the tiles was lyrically relaxing.