Authors: Arden Aoide
It had been two
days and the girl wouldn't stop crying. Raphe understood, but he needed her to
just stop.
He
didn't want to get her pregnant. He didn't even want to fuck her without
enthusiastic consent. He had refused any more women after Daniel. He told
Daniel's father to just let him go or kill him. He didn't care. He couldn't
stay in that house another minute and stay sane. He was told to wait for
Agnesson.
Raphe
didn't have long to wait.
“I
have one more girl. Your last one here. This venture has been too time
consuming and something that will most likely be futile. I'm bored of it.”
Agnesson was sitting on the dusty chair in the room where he killed Daniel.
But, he was speaking to Raphe like he truly had options.
“I
will return you to the border after she is pregnant, or you can work for my son
on the family farm. You'll be well-housed and fed, and should I need you to
impregnate another girl, I'll pay you.”
Agnesson
was gorgeous and conniving, Raphe would give him that. The only reason to keep
Raphe around was if Agnesson wanted to try for more babies. He had no opinion
of farm work, but he had waking dreams of suffocating Agnesson in his sleep.
“This
last girl? Just knock her up and you'll give me a job. Why?” Raphe played dumb
but he wanted to work Agnesson out. To find any weaknesses. He needed him to
keep talking.
Agnesson
smiled, sat back, and uncrossed his legs. Raphe's mouth watered. He could taste
metal. Apparently, Agnesson didn't need to speak at all to be effective.
Raphe
let his eyes move over Agnesson's crotch, which was semi-hard and outlined
nicely through his trousers. Raphe bit his tongue. He needed to taste blood.
“I
need your belligerent seed, Boy.”
It's
not like Raphe's seed could be anything else. Raphe let his eyes move down
again. Agnesson wouldn't be able to stand. Raphe smiled.
Raphe
succumbed to a bit more madness before Clara arrived. He thought of Daniel
often. He hadn't loved him. He didn't really miss him either, but he was being
haunted. He would catch glimpses in his periphery, reflections on glass, of
what Agnesson saw that lead to Daniel's punishment.
Raphe
had no doubt Agnesson meant the same for him eventually. He hoped to be on his
knees like Daniel. He would die certainly, but it would be to a blow to his
head once his mouth filled with Agnesson's blood.
The
taste of metal was a plague and a blessing.
“We
don't actually have to fuck,” Raphe said casually, three days in. Clara's face
was dry, though her eyes were rimmed with red.
“How
long do you think they would keep us here? What if I can't get pregnant?” Her
voice broke on the last word.
Raphe
sighed. “It's up to you. I'd be tempted to see how long they keep us, and what
they'd do to us if we didn't have you pregnant in a timely manner. But I've
seen what that fucker Agnesson is capable of, so I know what my fate would be.
What I don't know is if his taste for violence is toward women as well. But, I
do know he is beyond cruel to take you away from your family.” He looked down
at her ring. “You barely look old enough to be married.”
“I'm
eighteen. I like being married. Jude is very good to me,” Clara said a bit
defensively.
Jude.
Raphe mouthed. He sounded
perfectly amiable and not at all brainwashed. Really. “How long have you been
married?”
“Only
a few months. But it was better than I thought it would be.”
“What
did you think it would be?
She
shrugged. “I thought he would be bossy and I thought being with him would be
miserable and painful. That's what my mama said.” She blushed after, and Raphe
caught on.
“So,
the sex is good. I'm actually surprised.”
“Why
would you be surprised? You've never met him!”
Raphe
laughed. “Because my impressions of how women are treated here don't seem to be
compatible with their enjoyment, so I'm glad to hear that he treats you well.
You are still a prisoner though, and I'm not talking about here with me.”
It
took her a little time to work through that. “I'm not a prisoner.”
“Aren't
you? If you didn't want to marry him, could you have gotten out of it?”
“Well,
no. But neither could he. There's a contract.”
Raphe
knew that he wasn't getting anywhere with her. It was distressing that
something so obvious was ignored because they didn't know any different. “But
what if there weren't any contracts?”
Clara
frowned. “Then how would we know who we were meant to be with?”
“Because
you discover that after you've spent some time with them.”
Clara
felt ashamed. She had missed the obvious. “Oh. Were you too poor to get a
contract?”
Raphe
laughed. “Not at all. I'm not Texan. Where I'm from, contracts would be
barbaric.”
“Where
are you from?”
“The
States. Arkansas, specifically.”
Clara
stood and backed into the wall. “Does Mr. Agnesson know you aren't Texan?”
Raphe
rolled his eyes at her behavior. “Of course he does. He had me kidnapped. He
has me fucking prime Texas meat. He wants to sell my children. So I have no
idea why you're here. Except for your hair. Being newly married, I wouldn't
expect you to be pregnant right now. So, you've done something...or your
husband has. I'm betting it was your husband.” He actually didn't care, but he
was keen to fuck her. He didn't even need enthusiasm at that point. Her husband
was probably still learning not to come within ten seconds. And he probably
couldn't find her clitoris unless God sent him a map.
Raphe
wanted to blow her fucking mind.
Clara
relaxed and sat back on the bed. “Jude doesn't talk about his father very much.
When he does, it's mainly to tell me to stay away from him. I never asked why.”
Raphe
didn't expect that answer. He was sure that any son Agnesson sired was just as
psychopathic as their father. How could a son be borne of that and come out a
productive member of society? Not even productive really, just not killing
people with their dicks. “So your husband is normal?”
Clara
shrugged. “I think so. His brother seems okay, too. His wife is a little wild,
though.”
Raphe
laughed lightly. “You're going to have to define 'wild' for me.”
“I'm
serious. Completely wild! When she was to marry Mr. Agnesson, she cut her hair!
And she had her mother's ashes all over her face!”
“Oh.
That's pretty wild, I guess. I'm leaning toward insane, though.” Raphe tried to
picture it. “Wait. How is this girl married to your husband's brother if she
was getting married to Mr. Agnesson? Unless you call him Mr. Agnesson, too?”
Clara
shook her head. “It was a scandal! She was betrothed to Jared, but he
disappeared. So, Mr. Agnesson fulfilled the contract. But, Jared showed up at
the wedding and when he saw Shula, he made Jared marry her.”
“You
are fucking with me. This is shit you see on television. This shit does not
really happen.”
“It
did, though. Mama wouldn't shut up about it. Called Shula all manner of bad
names.”
Raphe
laughed. He thought the women of Texas were hopeless. “That is amazing.”
“I
don't blame her. Mr. Agnesson is old. He's as old as her father.”
“Agnesson
is gorgeous, though. I wouldn't kick him out of bed. Well, except to murder him
slowly. And with my dick. But, still. It wouldn't be a hardship to get fucked
by him.” Raphe shrugged and looked up. Clara looked a little shell-shocked.
“Fine. I'll murder him quickly. And only ask for him to suck me off while he
cries. Can't I at least have that?”
“I've
heard of men like you.”
Raphe
understood. He'd forgotten. He would make her be specific. “What do you mean?
“Men
who sleep with other men. Mama says that it is an abomination.”
“And
how! I do love a good abomination.”
“But,
you'll go to Hell.”
“So,
I've heard. I think I'll be okay with that.” Raphe sat down in his chair and
let her deal with that. He didn't want to antagonize her.
“So,
how do you...with another man.” Clara asked timidly.
It
had been awhile and Raphe had rendered her silent with his revelation. Little
r. He didn't know how much she really wanted to know.
“How
do I what?”
“You
know. Sex.”
“Oh.
All sorts of fantastic ways. Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
She nodded decidedly.
“We
kiss. We suck each other's dicks. We masturbate each other. We rut against each
other. We lick and fuck assholes with our tongues. We finger assholes. We put
our dicks inside assholes when sufficiently lubricated, or not, and we fuck them
like we would a pussy.” He knew he was being vulgar, but to clean it up would
take him rather a while. “Does that answer your question?”
Clara
nodded. “Do men do that to women?”
“Which
part?”
“The...penetration.”
Raphe
was delighted with the question. “Oh, Clara. Tell me more.”
“Just
answer, please.” Her cheeks were gorgeous.
“Yes
Clara. Men do that to women, and some women do it to men.” Raphe grinned
internally.
“What?...How?
Hold on. Okay. So men do that to women
‒
”
“Yes.
On occasion. It's not something done all the time, but some enjoy it more than
others.”
“What
if they are trying to prevent getting pregnant?”
“Sure.
That's one way. Pulling out works better than nothing, but there's a whole lot
of fun to be had without worrying about getting pregnant. But, what I want to
know, Clara dear, is how often are you and your beloved actively preventing
pregnancy in this manner? Was it a happy accident one night, as it is for a lot
of couples, or something deliberate.
Do tell
.”
Clara
felt like her face would catch fire. “Every time. There was one time when he
was drunk, and he was filthy
‒
”
“Filthy?
Sorry. Continue.”
“You
mentioned it before. The licking down there. He's always been rather generous
down there that way, but this was deliberate. This was him pulling me up on my
knees and putting his face in my crack and feasting. It was disgusting.”
“And
you loved it.”
She
was going to deny it, but there was no point. She didn’t care to lie. “Yes. I
did.”
“It
hurt when he fucked you that night, didn't it?”
Clara
nodded. “How did you know?”
“Whenever
a man's got his face buried in your ass and eating like it's his last meal, you
are going to hurt the next day.”
Clara
didn't say anything for a minute. “So, if my husband likes to do that so much,
does that make him like you?”
Raphe
shrugged. “He might be flexible. I don't mind women. Sometimes I crave them.
But I do prefer men. Obviously, fucking you isn't a hardship, and you said he
was good to you, so it sounds like, given the circumstances, that he's made due.”
She
didn't look relieved one bit. “Made due.”
“It's
not a bad thing, Clara. Do you think he misses you right now? Do you think he's
going mad wondering where you are?”
Clara's
eyes filled with tears. “He's probably killed his father and then he'll never
find me.”
“He's
mad about you then. It takes a special girl to make life halfway enjoyable when
there's no cock to chase. And I'll take you home myself, if Agnesson turns up
dead.” Raphe awkwardly patted her back. “Well, I got all worked up thinking
about your husband doing things to your ass, so I'm going to the bathroom and
I'll come out with a cup with a billion of my babies, and you can introduce
them to whoever decided to show up for the party. I'll go back to the bathroom
and give you some privacy.”
It
took Clara a few minutes to understand, and she made a face. “That's gross.”
“I
know. I figured you wouldn't be ready for my fingers, yet.”
Raphe
really loved scandalizing her.
Josiah spent three
days holed up in his hotel room after finding a stack of take-out menus in the
desk drawer.
He
still watched pornography, but it was overtaken by his need to learn more about
his surroundings.
He'd
made assumptions based on what his father told him, and what was rumored to be
true. The States were irredeemable. But, it went against his faith to believe
that to be true.
Though
he wavered. The blatant openness of sex permeated the culture, but it was a
massive city. Endless, from what he could tell. The crowd at the church was
large as well. It was peaceful and accepting.
It
made him look within to wrestle with his own sins and shortcomings. He was
pious, and loved the Church. He loved the transcendence of prayer.
He
found hope that God didn't leave the States behind. He was growing more
convinced that his Mission was to find a way to reach the people of New York
City when temptations were more abundant. Josiah needed to figure out how to
teach them. He didn't have a pulpit and he didn't have experience with the
apathetic or with those who didn't believe.
He
would have to walk the streets and get his hands dirty. He would need to find
the ones who were seeking more, but couldn't find it against a filthy alley
wall.
Josiah
would be a Disciple. He knew it would be difficult. He knew now why God meant
for him to meet Reverend Callahan. It was a lesson on delivery. He felt bad for
questioning God.
He
hoped that seeking out those who needed salvation would in turn save him from
craving full breasts in his hands and wide hips cushioning his thrusts. Unless
God meant for him to use his cravings.
He
was untouched, but he would sacrifice his own virtues if it meant bringing one
person closer to Everlasting Life.
Josiah
walked toward the lights and the noise later that night. He'd eaten and prayed,
and felt at ease. He wanted to experience the city with pleasure rather than
fear.
There
were many women, young and vibrant, dressed quite inappropriate to him, but he
wanted to know their hearts, so he tried not to judge.
It
was difficult. His view of prostitution was unwavering. It was wrong. He'd
always assumed it was women possessed wanting to ruin marriages and bankrupt
men with weaknesses. Looking at the women all around him, Josiah didn't see
evil. He heard laughter, but there was a quiet desperation that was suffocating
when no one was looking.
They
didn't notice him leaning against the dirty crumbling wall not too far down.
And he didn't notice the woman quickly coming nearer when he pushed off the wall
and knocked her down.
He'd
never touched a woman, but he knew he was meant to help. He crouched down,
unsure of where to place his hands. He settled with just offering them. She
took them quickly and hefted herself up, and he stared at her while she brushed
off her skirt. It was short. His fingers ached to touch where skirt met skin.
At
her laugh he looked up. She was short, with golden curls tumbling down her low
cut top. Her mouth was pink. Just like her nipples probably were.
Josiah
blinked, and stood up straight. “I apologize. I wasn't paying attention.” He
was amazed he could be coherent with her standing so close and with a smile
that could light up the street even if they were plunged into darkness.
“No
harm,” she laughed. “Were you looking for something particular?”
He
shook his head, not quite understanding, but a split second later he felt the
wind knock out of him when he realized. He pressed his back against the filthy
wall. “No. I'm not. I
wouldn't
.”
She
laughed again. “Then what are you doing on my grid, Silly?”
He
shook his head emphatically, trying to comprehend why she would've chosen this
profession when she would have a husband in an hour back home. “I was just
exploring the city. I've never been here before.”
“Where
are you from?” She was smiling. All the way to her eyes.
“Texas.”
Josiah didn't even consider lying.
“Get
the fuck out!” She poked his chest. “Prove it.”
It
was electric. It was asphyxiating. He wanted her to do it again. “I don't have
my passport with me. It's back at my room.”
She
laughed. “You are
good
. Does that usually work?”
Josiah
frowned “What? Does what work?”
“How
many women follow you back to your room for this proof?” She looked him over.
Like people from Texas were marked. “Don't look so scandalized. I bet you
pretend to only have Texas currency and I'm sure the exchange rate is shit. You
really
are
good.”
The
conversation was overwhelming. He couldn't believe she was accusing him of such
awful things. “I have never ever been with a woman. How dare you accuse me of
being a liar and a fornicator.”
She
took a step back. She licked her lips. “You really are from Texas?”
“That's
what I said.” He could feel his heartbeat deafening him.
“Take
me to dinner, then. I apologize for my accusations.” She held out her hand.
He
took it. Her forwardness thrilled him, though he felt the instinct to express
displeasure. He followed her impish grin through throngs of people, and the
noise, the lights, and the many bodies he moved through were barely a
distraction. She was pure light guiding a way just for him. He was not merely
aroused. The last few nights had shown Josiah how arousal couldn't be relied
upon. It was just a diversion from his heart.
God
would not bless him with such a reaction if she wasn't meant to be in his life
indefinitely. And now that He had laid her at Josiah's feet, it was up to him
to make sure she wouldn't want for anything but him.
Josiah
couldn't concentrate on his surroundings. She teased him incessantly about how
out of place and innocent he looked. He couldn't be annoyed, not with the way
she smiled at him.
Like
a besotted angel.
The
restaurant was dark and busy, but they had been seated quickly. The menu was
literally in another language, so at her teasing laughter, he let her order.
It
was a too spicy soup with noodles, but he ate it anyway. He didn't want to seem
like he was unappreciative. He wanted to impress her, and he wasn't sure at
that moment how that could be remotely possible.
Because
they were all children of God, so he wasn't as special as the next person.
“So...we've
established what it is I do, what is it you do? And what has brought you to my
beloved New York City?” She asked before blowing on her spoon.
He
didn't want to talk about what she did. He didn't want to be reminded of it. “I
am a minister. I've here on a Mission. To spread the Gospel.”
She
put her spoon down. “A minister. I get those sometimes. Because we have
churches here already.”
Josiah
frowned and nodded. “I've been to one. It was nice. I think God brought me here
for another purpose and I'm only just now seeing it.” He looked at her and
smiled. “What is your name?”
She
smiled back. “My name is Eve. What's yours?”
Of
course it was. The first woman. She would be. God made it clear. It had been
written. “Josiah. That's a beautiful name.”
“Thank
you.” She blushed prettily. “Josiah's...interesting. I think...I think I'd like
to see your passport.”
“Would
you like to see what money I brought?”
She
laughed again. “No, I really don't think I do. I'm...good. When do you go back
home?”
Josiah
shrugged. “End of next week, unless I decide to stay.”
“You
can just stay? What will you do?” Eve was very interested. He could be a
regular if she played her cards right.
He
didn't like that she was questioning him about his capabilities. “I don't know
exactly. I don't know the rules. I'd probably find a church to work for. Help
out with what they need.”
“The
city is expensive. I don't mean to be gauche, but even in a dump, your rent is
close to $5,000 USD. And sorry, but you don't look independently wealthy.” She
was staring at him again, looking, but not finding.
“I
like my hotel room, so far. I'll stay there for a while. I've got the money.
Then maybe you can help pick a place out, since you know the city better.” He
sat back. He still didn't like her doubting him. He didn't know how to convince
her that he would be able to take care of them easily.
“Oh,
you come from money
‒
”
“No,”
he interrupted. “I mean, yes. But my family's money isn't relevant. I used to
be in real estate.”
“You
left real estate for the cloth? What moved you so that you would want to do
that?” She waved at their server.
Josiah
barely noticed. He never got to talk about his work. He was so proud of it. “I
sold a plot of land and the most amazing church was built there. It called to
me. I answered.”
“That's
beautiful. How could you leave it?” She asked, a bit wistful.
How
could he? “Only if I found something more beautiful here. And I'm called to
stay.”
“How
will you know?” She handed the server money and shook her head toward Josiah
when he reached into his pockets. She stood, and offered her hand again.
He
took it firmly, not liking how she was taking the lead, but intrigued
nonetheless. It was different here. It would take him a little while to train
her. “I'm being called as we speak.”
It
had been a long time since Eve had met a man that was so full of shit it was
almost endearing. She thought he might be a little insane or delusional, but he
was too good at naïveté.
She
was up for a little roleplay, though.
She
enjoyed dinner with him. She hadn't expected to. She hadn't been completely
convinced he was Texan, but if he wasn't, the lie came easy. Eve liked little
lies. She saw them as wishes, but sometimes they served as armor. They weren't
meant to hurt or deceive and that mattered. She was used to playing whatever
role required of her, and if the pay was good, she would do it with a smile.
He
was gorgeous. Dark hair and innocent blue eyes. He was a full foot taller than
her, and she couldn't wait to see what he hid underneath his clothes.
The
hotel was nice. A monstrosity of metal and sharp lines. It was repurposed for
business travelers who didn't want to get caught up with all the touristy hotels
and most men took her somewhere far cheaper and further than she preferred to
go. The hotels in the downtown area were mostly for tourists and families, with
everything in walking distance for smaller legs.
The
room was a little chilly, but most places were as the seasons shifted. The
stained concrete floor didn't help. She took the pretense of checking out her
surroundings. If his passport did indeed say 'Texas', he would be getting a
freebie tonight. If he somehow managed to lose it, then she would be pleased to
take his money. Though if he offered to pay her anyway, she would be grateful.
She
wasn't poor, but she did have to work for a living. It wasn't something she
loved to do, but it was the fastest way to get a large sum in a small amount of
time.
She
wasn't looking for her prince. She didn't believe he existed.