Broken Blue: The Complete Series

by Amy Cross

  "Harder," he gasps.

  Without hesitation, I bite down a little harder, and after a moment I feel one of my teeth break through the surface of his skin. The sweet, iron taste of blood seeps into my mouth, but although my first instinct is to let go, I force myself to keep biting down on him. It's as if the sensation of being bitten has unleashed a whole new side to his passion, and he's not making love to me with such force that my body is jolting with each thrust. I cling onto him, feeling almost as if he's challenging me to keep up with him, and I brace myself for the fury of his orgasm. I want more than anything to feel him unload himself inside me, to feel the full power of his ecstasy deep within my vagina. I can't help feeling that with each thrust, I'm getting closer to the real Mark Douglas, and that when he cums I'll finally get to glimpse his raw soul with all the artifice and manners stripped away. All I have to do is stay the course and make sure I don't slip away, even though it's getting harder and harder to hang on. To galvanize my efforts, I bite down even harder on his shoulder; something tells me that no matter how hard I bite, I'm never going to go too far. With Mark, there's no such thing as going too far.

  Suddenly I feel a slight change in the pressure he's exerting on my clitoris, and it's as if he's unlocked some new level of pleasure. I grunt, trying desperately to hold onto his torso and keep my teeth latched onto his shoulder. Up until this point, I'd been building slowly toward a peak of pleasure, but now I feel that I'm losing control of my own body. I tighten my legs around him, and I try to hold back the orgasm, but I'm not sure if I can withstand his passion for much longer. I start to tense my entire body, and I close my eyes as I feel the familiar build-up of pure ecstasy stirring in my loins. Part of me wants to give in immediately and accept the orgasm, but another part of me wants to resist and hold out for as long as possible; I focus on trying to control my body, but I fear that it's far too late. It feel as if with every thrust, Mark is tightening the knot of my orgasm, building up the inevitability of the eventual explosion; it's as if there's a force that's holding the orgasm back, preventing it from exploding through my body, but I can't keep that force in place forever. As I try to resist, I bite down harder and harder on his shoulder until finally I feel the flesh start to stretch a little more. I keep going, and suddenly I feel his skin tear yet again. Shocked, I force myself not to let go.

  Mark lets out a powerful gasp as I bite down even harder, feeling a drop entering my mouth. My entire body is tensed more than ever before, but I'm still determined to resist the orgasm for as long as possible. The pleasure is now building to an almost unbearable level as I feel his cock ramming into me, and I can even hear the slapping sound as his balls slam into my taint with each thrust. Finally, I realize I can't hold out much longer, and I strengthen my grip on his ass. The sheer power of his body's movement is kind of terrifying, but I focus on waiting for the right moment. I want to feel him start to cum before I submit myself to the immense pleasure that has built up between us, but I'm not sure if I can keep this up for much longer. With my teeth still holding his shoulder tight, I hold my breath and keep my eyes tight shut, and for a moment I see to enter into a kind of trance, forever on the verge of an explosion that hasn't quite happened yet.

  And then suddenly I cum.

  Unable to hold back any longer, I grasp him so tight it's almost as if I'm trying to pull his body into mine. I open my mouth and let go of his shoulder, and I let out a shocking scream as the pleasure explodes in my crotch. It's like nothing I've ever known before, with the pure power of the orgasm radiating out from my pussy in a series of unbearably powerful waves that judder my entire body. I clutch his body as tight as possible while letting out a series of loud gasps and moans, and I feel his cock thrusting deep into my vagina. Just as the pleasure starts to abate, I feel him slightly change the angle of his thrusts, and it's as if a new pleasure is building. I let go of Mark's torso and lie flat on my back, staring up at him as I feel a second orgasm build, and finally I cum again; this time, it's less overwhelming, but it feels somehow sharper and more focused in my clitoris. I let out a few short gasps, and finally it subsides and I bite my bottom lip as I stare up into Mark's eyes. He slows down a little but keeps his cock inside as he smiles breathlessly.

  "What about you?" I whisper.

  "Soon," he replies.

  I look at his shoulder and see, to my surprise, that I made quite a nasty cut in his skin. The flesh has been perforated in two distinct places, and there's trickle of blood running from the wound. I never realized I'd bitten him quite that hard. Wiping my hand across my lips, I see a spot of blood.

  "Did it hurt?" I ask.

  He smiles.

  "I want you to cum," I say, starting to get a little frustrated by the fact that we haven't yet managed to break through that final barrier.

  "It'll happen," he replies, slowly sliding his cock out and lying next to me on the bed. "I don't cum easily. I don't know why, it's just how my body works. But trust me, I'll cum later".

  Smiling in an attempt to hide my disappointment, I look down at his hard cock and see that it's glistening with the wetness from my pussy. I reach down and run my fingers over the dome, pressing my thumb against the hole in the tip. Slowly, I wrap my fingers around his shaft and start to jerk him off. I've had three orgasms now, and it's definitely his turn.

  "Elly -" he starts to say.

  "Relax," I reply, pushing him onto his back as I continue to play with him. I squeeze his cock tight as I use my own juices to lubricate his girth, determined to get him to cum. Rob used to cum without much effort at all; in fact, it became kind of annoying how quickly he'd squirt out his load. Mark, on the other hand, seems to be going far in the opposite direction. With everything we've done so far, it's almost unbelievable that he hasn't reached orgasm, and I can't help worrying that maybe I'm doing something wrong. He seems turned on, and he seems to be enjoying himself, but something is holding him back. It's as if that last little reserved part of his personality is refusing to let go, and refusing to show me the truth of his passion.

  "There's no rush, Elly," he says after a moment.

  "Isn't it good?" I ask, forcing a smile as I continue to slowly jerk him off. Damn it, Rob was always happy enough with the stuff we did in bed, but I guess Rob and Mark have slightly different standards and thresholds.

  "Of course it's good," he replies, "it's just that it takes time for me to build up to it".

  "We've got time," I say. "We've got all night". I move down the bed, figuring I can use my mouth a little. It's so frustrating to think of all the passion Mark must have built up in his body.

  "There's something else we can do," he says. "Something that might achieve results a little more quickly".

  "What's that?" I ask, smiling as I plant a gentle kiss on the smooth, bulbous tip of his cock.

  "I told you that some of the stuff I like might be considered a little dark," he says. "It you want, I can show you".

  I pause for a moment. I guess I knew this moment was coming, but I'm still a little nervous. I've always been a vanilla kind of person, and I've never lusted after any of the stranger things I've heard some people like to do. Earlier this evening, when Mark talked about pushing boundaries, I was quick to say I'd be willing to try whatever he wanted, but now I'm starting to worry about what he might have in store.

  "Sure," I say, realizing I have no option but to agree. If I hold back, or even if I seem reticent, he might decide to cancel the whole encounter. I'm not ready for this to end yet; I need to make him cum, and I'll do anything to make sure it happens. I can't sleep with this man and have so many great orgasms myself, while having him remain buttoned up and constrained.

  "Okay," he replies with a smile, slipping his cock out of my hands as he gets off the bed and walks over to a cupboard on the other side of the room. I take a deep breath, staring at his back as he opens the cupboard door to reveal a series of drawers and hangers. "I'll start you off with something fairly tame," he continues, keeping
his back to me as he goes through the contents of the cupboard. "I don't want to scare you off".

  "You couldn't scare me off," I say, sitting up on the bed. In truth, my heart is in my mouth, and I'm terrified by what he might be about to show me. I guess there's a part of me that's happy with good old, boring, normal sex, where a man gets on top of a woman and fucks her. For me, having the woman go on top would be pretty exciting and daring, along with something doggy-style. Just by biting Mark's shoulder while we were making love, I've already gone beyond what I would consider to be my comfort zone, but I guess I can't admit any of this to Mark. I just have to smile and accept whatever he wants to do, and I must simply focus on the fact that right now, my main goal is to make him cum.

  "Okay," he says, taking something from the cupboard. "Don't worry, Elly. This isn't going to be quite how it seems". He turns to face me, and I see to my utter shock that he's holding a small whip in his hand.

  Four

  1896

  The King's Arms is as busy as ever, filled to bursting point with the type of people who don't like to be seen. Murders, kidnappers, thieves and worse, they're all crammed into this filthy, stinking public house in a dark corner of London, and most of them are drunk as hell. Fights are common here, and it's a rare night that doesn't involve at least one patron being beaten to a bloody pulp and left to fight for his life in the alley that runs down the side of the building. The key to surviving this place is to ensure that there's always some other poor bastard who offers a more obvious target, which sometimes involves setting someone up to take a heavy - and sometimes fatal - fall. Tonight, for example, I walk through the door and immediately see that a group of sailors from the nearby port have made the mistake of coming for a drink. There are three of them, and I can already tell that within the hour they'll be in serious trouble. All I need to do is keep my head down and avoid making any dumb mistakes. I have to stay here for a few hours; it's probably the only place in London where I'm safe from my real enemies.

  "Jonathan Pope," sneers a voice from behind the bar. Darius Wolff is the owner of the King's Arms, and in many ways he embodies the spirit of the place.

  "Beer," I say, sliding some coins over to him.

  "Been a while since we saw you in here," he slurs as he passes me a drink.

  "I've been busy," I reply. Normally I'd be anxious to avoid engaging him in conversation, but tonight I need to find out if anyone has been asking after me. "Anyone been in here?" I ask after taking a sip.

  "Lots of people," he says with a smile.

  "You know what I mean," I say. "Anyone with an unnatural interest in my affairs?"

  He laughs. "Why would anyone give a shit about you, Pope? You're just a small-time thief".

  I sigh, realizing that I'm in the clear, at least for now. If someone had been in to ask after me, I'm sure Wolff would have mentioned it by now. He'd never miss a chance to wield power over me, so his dismissive tone means I've got nothing to worry about. For now, at least. The King's Arms is out of bounds to most of London, but eventually D'Oyly and his associates will realize that I'm here and they'll find a way to get through the door. When that happens, I'll really be in the shitter, but there's still time to resolve this situation. Damn it, if I had the money to quit London altogether, I'd be long gone, but unfortunately I'm London-bound through and through. If I can't live here, I sure as hell can't live anywhere.

  "Is John the Pig in tonight?" I ask eventually.

  "Might be," Wolff replies. "Who's asking?"

  Without even bothering to reply to such an inane question, I grab my beer and struggle through the crowd. John the Pig is perhaps the one person who can help me. A short, stocky man renowned for his bald pate and his bright pink skin, Tim the Pig knows more about London than anyone I've ever met. He could tell you why the Angel Islington turned against the Plantagenets, or who pushed the Bard Elder into the Thames at Bright Point, or whether the weak timbers beneath Earl's Court are ever likely to break. I'd never previously thought to ask him about the likes of Mr. Blue and Mr. White, because I believed the matter to be too arcane even for John the Pig's scope. Right now, however, I'm out of ideas and I figure I might as well give it a shot.

  When I finally get to the far corner, I spot John the Pig sitting alone, drinking from his pint of beer while he observes the chaos around him. Despite his diminutive stature, John the Pig has earned a great deal of respect around these parts, so he's generally allowed to sit undisturbed. This, of course, suits him perfectly, since it enables him to watch the other patrons and listen in to their conversations. That's the best way to describe John the Pig: he's a watcher. He watches and watches and watches, soaking in all the information that comes from the mouths of those around him. He's also very careful and very discreet; he never looks at the people to whom he's listening, but instead tends to glance in completely the opposite direction. He's a dangerous man, but he can be very useful.

  "I need a word," I say, sitting next to him.

  "Quiet," he spits back at me. "There's a man in the next booth, talking about the Beetle Market. He says it might be moving to Camden. There've been complaints in Hammersmith about the smell of the beetles".

  "I don't care," I reply.

  "You should," he says, fixing me with a beady-eyed stare. "If they move the Beetle Market, who knows what's next? The Flesh Weavers won't like it, and the Loom People will rise up in revolt!"

  "I don't care," I say again. "I'm not here to chat shit, John. I need to know if you've ever heard of a certain group of people. Three of them, to be precise. The first goes by the name of Mr. Blue, the -"

  Suddenly, John the Pig clamps his hand over my mouth and stares at me in shock. "Don't say that name!" he hisses as I struggle free, disgusted by his foul, shit-smelling hand.

  "Jesus Christ!" I splutter. "Where do you keep those fingers? Up your arse?"

  "Go fuck yourself," he spits back at me, but I can see from the look in his eyes that something has changed. Whereas a moment ago he was interested in the conversations around him, suddenly he seems entirely focused on me, and there's a new edge to him, as if he's nervous.

  "Come on, John," I say, keen to get straight down to business. "We both know you owe me some decent information. Tell me what you know about these people".

  "I don't know nothing," he replies.

  "Bullshit. Tell me".

  He shakes his head, staring at me with his eyes wide open in terror. "Where did you even hear those names?" he asks, before jumping down from his stool. "I don't know what shit you've got yourself mixed up with, Mr. Pope, but it's really none of my concern. In fact -" Suddenly, he turns and runs off through the crowd. Abandoning my beer, I race after him, struggling through the sea of drinkers before finally I spot John diving out through the back door. It takes me a moment to follow him, but finally I emerge in the alley and quickly gain on him, grabbing his collar and hauling him back into the shadows before he can get away.

  "Don't do it!" he shouts at me. "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you! Just name your price! I can help you and the others, I swear! I'll spill!"

  "Tell me everything," I say, pinning him against the wall. I put extra pressure on his shoulder. "I can already feel your collarbone starting to bend, Pig. A little more force, and it'll bend so far it'll snap. Do you want that?" I pause for a moment. "Tell. Me. Everything".

  Short of breath, he stares at me as if he expects me to rip his heart out at any moment. "I never thought you'd be part of this," he splutters. "No offense, Pope, but I always thought you were a piece of shit, mixed up in nothing more than a few mundane heists here and there. But that's all in the past. What matters now is that you understand I'll do anything, anything, to make your life easier. Consider me your humble servant, and rest assured that I'll never, ever breathe a word of this to anyone!"

  Hauling him across the alley, I throw him against the opposite wall before pinning him against the brickwork. "Don't bullshit me," I say firmly. "Just tell me every damn
thing you know about Mr. Blue, Mr. White and Lady Red".

  "I don't know anything!" he squeals. "Not really! I mean, I've heard the names, but that's all! Tell her I'm completely safe! There's no reason to worry about me!" He struggles to get free, but I'm holding him too tight. "Which one are you, anyway?" he asks. "I could see you as Mr. Blue or Mr. White".

  "I'm not one of them," I say. "I'm nothing to do with them. The only connection I have with them is that they want to kill me! Unfortunately, killing is something they're very good at".

  "You're not one of them?" He laughs nervously. "That's a little hard to believe, Pope. You're looking very healthy for a dead man, and if they wanted you dead, you'd be dead by now".

  "A few hours ago," I explain, "they killed Inspector Arthur Matthews of New Scotland Yard. At this very moment, they're outside my home and very soon they'll realize I'm not going back there. That's when they'll realize I'm running, and then they're going to start hunting me down. And do you want to know something funny, Pig? If they do track me down, and if they do hold a knife to my throat, do you know what my very last words will be?" I pause for a moment. "I won't say anything eloquent. I won't pray to God for my soul to be saved. No, I'll tell them that I got all my information from you, you little piece of garbage. I'll tell them you squealed your heart out. So if you want to live, if you have any plans of seeing the sun come up tomorrow morning, I'd suggest you tell me what you know and I'd suggest you tell me right now".