Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (73 page)

I
was dragged by them both, bleary eyed and loose limbed to stand before him. One
on each side, they held my arms in a fashion similar to how I had been brought
here today by my Uncle and Bandar.

I
shook them off. Not wanting to be held by them, instead choosing to stand
before him of my own accord.

“What
do you know of the Night Masters?”

“Night
Masters are immortal. They rule Vandarra in their infinite wisdom. They take
the blood of the few and in return offer protection to the many. Those Chosen
are most honored. Blood Service a privilege.” I spoke the words I knew by rote.

“Yes,
we need blood, but some of us require more.”

“You
need more, Sire?” I wondered if that was the reason why he seemed lacking, why
his clothes were loose.

“I
am the Dark Prince of Pleasure. I can survive on blood alone, but to thrive, I
also need pleasure.”

“There
are many who would be most honored to pleasure you my, Prince.”

“Yes,
I can take from many, but I have long sought one.”

“One,”
I echoed.

“Yes.
One,” he murmured and brought forth his hand, touching me for the first time.
My back bowed. My skin singed at the fleeting touch. I wailed out in pleasure
such that I had never known.

“One
Chosen for me. You, Talia of Shire Hawthorne. You.”

His
mouth opened wide, his lips pulled back and fangs descended. I felt not fear
but a wonderful anticipation. I knew somehow what he wanted. What he needed. I
brought my leg up and rested my foot on his thigh, leaning in to present my wet
sex to his mouth. His teeth came down, piercing the skin with a brutal bite.
Blood flowed hot and wet between my legs, his tongue came out long and rough to
lap it from my sex. At the first taste he groaned and the floor beneath me
began to shake. He ceased lapping and began to suck hard. I pushed harder
against him trying to stuff my whole sex in his mouth. The burning ache of his
sucking mouth shot through me, it shattered my resolve, it broke through my
shields until I was stripped raw before him.

I
was his. I was Chosen.

And
with that thought I came, adding my juice to the blood he sucked. He yelled,
pulled off my sex and threw back his head. His breeches split at his crotch,
revealing his erect cock. It pulsed before me. Without thought I pushed him
back, his fangs released from my sex with a spray of blood. I had to taste him.
I fell to my knees before him and took his shaft in my mouth just as it spurt
out streams of white cum. I sucked it down as if I needed it more than air. I
only released him when he pulled me away. If he had not, I doubted I would have
let him from my mouth.

“Talia,”
he said and just the sound of my name from his mouth was enough. I began to
shudder, to come once more. He dragged me to my feet, pressing my convulsing
sex to his mouth in time capture the juice that spurted forth. He groaned out
his own pleasure as he nestled his mouth against my sex licking me clean of my
juices and blood.

When
he finished he rested his head against my belly. I ran my fingers through his
hair feeling an overwhelming need to comfort him.

“My
Chosen,” he murmured against the sweat damp swell of my belly.

I
was free. I felt strong and ready. I was not foolish. I was not hidden.

I
was Chosen.

Through
me swirled all the feelings I had long since denied. Anger. Hate. Love.
Passion. Desire. Need. Want. I let them all come. I let them all release.

He
groaned against me and cried out as if he too could feel the swirl of emotion.

“Mine.”
He looked up at me with shining black eyes.

“Yes,”
I answered him with a truth that sang from my very being.

The
hall began to grow dark and I wondered how long we had been standing there,
clutching each other. In the half light of evening I pondered that my day had
both begun and ended with a realization of irony. The end irony being the most
poignant—being forced to the Choosing had actually set me free. I laughed
at the thought, and of how furious Bandar and my Uncle would be to know of the
role they unwittingly played in my release.

From
beneath me, still nuzzling my belly and sex, I heard the Dark Prince say, “You
will explain to me later, my Chosen, what is so amusing.”

I
looked down at his swollen blood-smeared lips and felt a surge of love, of
peace and equality. I was fearless. I was free. I laughed at the feeling and
said, “Yes, my Prince, I will…if I should so choose.”

He
laughed too. And I let myself like the sound.

About
Darcy Sweet

Darcy Sweet has a dirty secret-she has a head full
of wicked stories.

She’s thinking of them in the line at the grocery
store, at the library, in the bank and sitting in the car at a red light. At
first she only shared them with her husband now she’s decided to share them
with you. When not writing or thinking about writing she’s reading or
negotiating peace terms between the argumentative little people who live with
her. She is a music snob who loves to make mix-tapes of little known music. Her
current musical obsession is foul mouthed depressive Scottish bands.

She loves erotica and hopes that her stories make
you hot and bothered. Her favorite erotica authors are Selena Kitt, Emma Holly,
Michelle Houston, Portia Da Costa and because she’s partial to a Bromance, the
very, very wicked Habu.

PERCHANCE TO DREAM

By Christabel Roseau

Monday morning
—
The wee hours

Feathers
were all around her, soft and light. They stroked her skin beguilingly, leaving
tingles in their wake. She sighed, feeling her hands reach to stroke those
gorgeous feathers in turn. They faded into mist every time she tried. They
stroked her face almost like a hand that slid down her back to cup her buttocks
with a not quite solid feeling. She sighed again as those tingles began to
coalesce somewhere deep and hitherto unknown. The plumage ran over her
adoringly, lingeringly, filling her with longing; a longing so intense that
tears rose in then fell from her grey-blue eyes.

She
awoke crying. An emptiness somewhere near her heart ached with a physical pain
that made her sob into her pillow before sleep once more reclaimed her.

* *
* *

“Not
again.” Clarissa muttered under her breath.

Traffic
jammed the freeway, bumper to bumper in the early morning. Though she rose
early to avoid it, the congestion set the tone for the rest of the day. Another
young punk in a spanking new Beamer cut her off as she tried to switch lanes
just to make her exit.

“What
an asshole.” She shook her head, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

Not
too long ago such talk would have earned her a swift crack across the face. The
suppressed rage was her companion now, the blush of her feelings rising like a
thermometer.

You’re
safe now.
The words were a litany she repeated over and over. Finally she
made her exit and pulled into the parking lot where she worked.

Although
she did try, her heart was sore. It left her vulnerable and overly sensitive to
the cuts and stabs of those around her. Her eyes shown with gratefulness when
her boss, her almost-a-friend employer, sent her off to research on the net in
the quiet of the small firm’s research library. At least there, she was out of
everyone’s way, and more importantly, she could lick her still healing wounds
in private.

* *
* *

Thursday—Sometime
after midnight

Tingles
swamped her. The feathers, so soft, wrapped over her arms and legs, touching
her delicately, almost like tentative kisses. Her hair lifted in unseen hands,
the nape of her neck teased and tickled until she squirmed. The sensations
pooled in her belly, her breath hitching a notch or two, as more feathers
stroked her legs until she parted them to let them glide between. She could
feel the strength of an arm cradling her back, but those feathers, those
feathers teased her skin until she was gasping.

She
woke with her hands cupping her mons, her breath a quick and unsteady rasp
between her teeth. She found herself slick and swollen, her clitoris puffed-up
and begging her to stroke it. Shocked and a little dismayed she tucked her
hands under her pillow and slid back into sleep.

* *
* *

Friday
– Late Afternoon

A
man was staring at her again.

Halfway
through the ritualistic lifting and sniffing of early cantaloupes, she felt her
hackles rise. Cautiously she peeked over the rough texture of the fruit. A big
beefy man with hair and bushy eyebrows was definitely staring at her. He seemed
to always be at the grocery store when she was, blatantly staring at her, with
a possessive leer on his face.

Glancing
quickly away, she picked a cantaloupe from the two she had been checking and
turned her cart as quickly as she could in the other direction. Hurriedly she
sped through the store, almost flinging her selections into the cart.

At
the register, she scanned the people around her with nervous nearly frantic
eyes. The man was nowhere to be seen, thankfully, and she heaved a sigh of
relief. He scared her, reminding her all too much of the looks her ex had given
her. A look of such cold possessiveness usually meant one word—pain. Once
it was his fists, another time his dick. A shudder ripped through her belly in
remembered revulsion and fear. She tried not to panic, but soon was racing
toward her battered Toyota.

He
stood there, a couple of cars away from her. She could not get the key in the
door. Clarissa was shaking so hard that she dropped them to the ground in a
clatter of metal against pavement. Unwilling tears burned behind her eyes, and
she tried to pick them up. She was gearing up to a full-blown panic attack.

“Ma’am?
You all right?” The voice was firm, but there was no face to accompany it, her
face turned downward.

She
tried to stand upright, but a wave of lightheadedness swamped her, and she sat
down hard, smearing her white pants with road dirt.

Hands
blurred in front of her, and she whimpered, warding off an imagined blow. “No…”
It was a thin and piteous wail.

“Easy
ma’am, easy. No one is going to hurt you.” The voice was calm and rough at the
same time.

Through
tears she saw the uniform of an officer. She dragged her hands over her clammy
face and looked around. Though her sight was limited from where she sat between
cars, she could see the glint of his badge.

“Did
someone hurt you?”

“N…no…”
She fought her unwilling body and dragged herself to her feet leaning heavily
against her car. ‘I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”She muttered over and over, trying
without success to get the key in the lock.

“Here,
why don’t you let me help you with that.” The voice was kind but laced with too
much authority; too much control.

He
reached for the keys in her tight-fisted grip. She backed up so fast that she
nearly fell again. If it were not for the rear view digging so abruptly into
her back she would have. She could not stop the cry of sheer terror at the
thought of him touching her.

“No
don’t! Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She panted between strangled breaths.

“Uh—Ma’am?
Is there someone I can call to come and get you? I don’t want to intrude but it
seems to me that you shouldn’t be driving.”

She
stood there, hands pressed tightly against her belly. A protective gesture if
he had ever seen one. “Ma’am, it’s okay. No one is going to hurt you here. Just
give me the keys and I’ll help you get back home.”

As
he spoke, she struggled mightily within her tormented thoughts. Get a grip she
all but shrieked at herself. Richard can’t hurt you anymore! Stop it! She
dragged a deep breath into her constricted lungs and eased it out. Another and
then another until at last she was able to think past her fear.

The
officer waited without movement or sound. He recognized her. Her hair was
longer and the bruises were gone. He understood all too well the demons she
wrestled with and sent a prayer up to God. Someone needed to help this woman
because time was not doing its job.

The
last time he had seen her was at the trial against her ex-husband. The man, no,
that monster had beaten her so badly that it was a wonder she’d survived. The
Doctors had all testified as to the miracle of her recovery. The coma had
lasted nearly a month, and the sick bastard who had done it had had the
audacity to try and have the plug pulled on her. Thank God he hadn’t succeeded
the officer mused to himself watching the beautiful golden haired woman
struggle to calm herself enough to function again.

“Come
on, Let me help you home. It’s the least I can do.” He held out his hand, not
really expecting her to take it.

Clarissa
stared at his out-stretched hand. It took her several breaths but she slowly
reached out and accepted his hand into hers. “Thank you,” she breathed softly
and let him put her groceries in her car.

He
followed her to her apartment and saw her safely inside before he continued his
tour of duty for the day.

“Such
a damn shame,” he muttered as he drove away. “Such a damn shame.”

* *
* *

Saturday—Mid
afternoon

The
feathers were more insistent as they coaxed her skin into electrical fire. A
strong arm supported her arching back as the feathers delved to slip over her
mound, between her butt cheeks, never quite touching hard enough, long enough.
She shuddered and moaned, hands seeking something to hold onto. They found
something incredibly sleek and yet exceptionally hard to hold. The feeling of
chinchilla fur softness struck her as sensuous and decadent, and her innate
sensuality luxuriated in it. Tiny plumes slipped over her breasts, up the
column of her throat, teasing along the planes of her face, the edges of her
lush mouth. The fire within her flamed higher and she felt herself teetering on
the edge of a blissful orgasm.

The
rocking chair nearly overturned with her abrupt awakening. In wonderment, she
ran her hands down her body. Her nipples were hard and poking under her thin
sweater. The heat between her legs was undeniably wet and ached fiercely.
Confused and a little fearful, she sat upright. “God what is happening to me?”
she cried in the tumult of her mind.

* *
* *

Tuesday—A
new age bookstore 6:23 pm

”So,
Clarissa, did you know you have three or four Guides that are constantly around
you?” Thia looked at her with wisdom, compassion, and something else in her
eyes.

“I
do? You mean like guardian angels?”

“Well
yes, you do have guardian angels from the moment you arrive here to until the
moment you leave. But, you also have guides. They come and go depending on
where you are in your process to shepherd you through whatever it is your soul
must learn right then.”

Clarissa
barely heard her. Angels? Angels all around her? Did they really have feathers?
“Do Angels have feathers? I mean, like the wings of a dove or an eagle?”

“Popular
belief says they do, but they are not wings per say. It’s more like energy,
pure energy that comes in several layers, not unlike the feathers on wings but
more, much more than that.”

“Do
they ever, like, um…” She blushed. “…Um, try to seduce their guides, or rather,
charges?”

Thia
looked at her sharply. “Not angels, no. However, they are not the only winged
presences in the Multi-verse. Why, Clarissa? Why do you ask that?”

She
looked down. Embarrassment made it hard to look at her directly. “It’s just
that I…I keep having the most vivid dreams, and they are very sexual even
though nothing much has happened.”

“To
dream of sex isn’t unusual Clarissa. I know you haven’t been with anyone in a
few years, so it’s natural that your body is telling you what it needs in
dreams.”

“No
it’s not that,” she swallowed hard. “It’s like I am surrounded by feathers and
they are touching me everywhere. And this last time I could swear I could feel
arms around me, and I think…I think I felt the pinion of a wing.”

Her
friend and long-time confidante looked at her, her hazel eyes deep and
penetrating. “It’s not the usual approach of guides to develop intense physical
relationships with their charges. But, and it’s a big but, as long as you make
sure they are of the Light, I don’t see any problem with developing an astral
relationship with one. However, I can assure you sweetie that what you really
need to be looking for is a real, physical relationship. You have been alone
too long. I am sure most of this is just your libido returning. Your last
relationship certainly trashed it.”

She
nodded, only partially agreeing with Thia’s opinion and continued as if Thia
hadn’t spoken . “I thought that with them being on a different plane, they were
supposed to be beyond physical, err, you know, sexless.”

“Remember
that not all Light beings are ascended high enough that the physical isn’t part
of their healing or teaching purpose. And Clari, not all winged beings are of
the Light. Just remember next time you have this dream to ask if the being is
of the light. And this is important, so pay attention.” she snapped her fingers
in front of Clarissa’s face. “You have to ask three times. Make sure you ask
three times in a row. They are compelled to tell the truth by the third time
you ask. And if they are not, you know what to do to send them away.”

“Yeah
okay. Thanks Thia.”

* * *
*

Tuesday—Before
Sunrise

Velvet
and silk feathers slipped over her skin. She writhed at the feel of that
softness. Light eddied in her veins as it skimmed over her most sensitive spots
leaving her quivering in its wake. Muscular arms gathered her to an unseen
chest where her overheated face pressed close. Its heartbeat hammered under her
ear.

“Who
are you?” she managed to whisper, though the struggle to speak in dreams was
enormous. The heartbeat seemed to pause for a moment. There was no an answer,
only the upwelling of sensations as feathers traced her with delicacy and
fervor. She could feel her body reacting strongly. Her secret channel was
blossoming in longing. “Are you of the light?”

“Yes,”
a deep rumbling voice filled her body setting new fires to flame.

“Do
you have a name?” It took her eons to drag those words into being.

“Yes.”
Her entire body trembled to that cavernous voice, and still those feathers
stroked her body.

“Are
you willing to tell me your name?”

“No.”
The deepness of its voice had her back arching against those supporting arms, a
sudden peak forming deep in her belly. “Soon…”

Small
cries filled her ears as she came awake, her head hanging off the bed, a puddle
of wetness between her legs. She trembled as she untangled herself from the
blankets. When she placed a hand over her sex, a single finger parting her
slick and swollen folds, she came. Shocked, she could do nothing but ride it,
gasping and moaning softly in the night air.

“Christ,”
she breathed as it faded into memory. “What the hell is going on? What’s
happening to me?”