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Aimee - j - Chapter
8
AIMEE'
Chapter VIII
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The bitter
cold whipped against Aimee's face. "My cloak, sir.
Please!"
"It is
of no matter, Aimee'," Teltirray hissed, impatiently. He
disliked waiting, especially when a stupid girl like Aimee' slowed
him
down. Although even he had to admit that she was less stupid
than most.
Her beauty, like flawless amber, attracted him to her, and he
had known so
many months ago that he had to possess her. He had arranged
with the idiot
at the orphanage to "tutor" her, so long as all record
of her existence
disappeared off their books. If she died, there would be no
investigation.
He knew that. He had paid good money for that little "feature."
He smiled.
"Feature." The convenience of sloughing off one of
these
simple creatures was something he would easily pay for, just
to be done
with it. Especially in these later years, now that he had found
a route to
power that once he had only dreamed of. For that route, though,
Aimee' was
almost entirely used up. Her body could not withstand the pleasures
he
sought for much longer, although he had to admit that both Bethsany
and
Darynn had trained her very well, for although his need for violence
had
increased a great deal, so had her survivability, just by her
strength. He
would call on their services again to train the next one.
Aimee' was
sobbing silently as he hauled her through the snowbound
streets. "Silence, girl!" he snarled at her. That
insufferable noise
would drive him mad after too long, and he could not bear to
hear it. "You
will have plenty of tears when we get home."
"Sir,
please. I cannot!"
"Oh,
you certainly can, Aimee'. Because I so will that you can."
"Sir!"
"I said
shut up!" He released her long enough to slap her across
the
face, then grabbed her by the hair and pushed her in front of
him.
They reached
his small, round home soon enough, and the doors opened
to let him in. "Good evening, sir," his chamberlain
said.
"I will
be in the upper chambers tonight, Ricar. See to it that I am
not disturbed."
"Of course,
sir." Teltirray watched, pleased, as he bowed and walked
away, his back stiff and strong. Men were like that, he thought,
strong.
Even the ones who could not do magic deserved his respect far
more than the
soft, pathetic forms of the lesser sex, although the magic-less
always
deserved to be the chattel of men like him.
He led her
up the flights of stairs and into his bedroom. "Remove
your clothes."
"Sir..."
"Do it!"
he growled. "Or I'll flay the skin from your bones."
Aimee' looked
away, and Teltirray saw her jaw clenched in anger. He
smiled to himself, knowing that she was helpless to do anything.
She would
submit to his whims. She removed her boots, then slowly undid
her pants,
picking up one leg at a time and sliding out of them. She tossed
the scarf
aside, but as she removed her shirt she hesitated. Teltirray
saw a curious
smile cross her face. "You're dawdling!" His anger
grew as she hesitated
longer, but finally she threw her tunic aside with a snarl.
Teltirray
laughed. "Is my pussy kitty angry?" he asked, soft
and sarcastic. "Get on
that bed!"
She hesitated,
and he swore. Without a word, he thought his favorite
spell in her direction, simple Pain, and she buckled over, agonized.
Her
stomach would tie itself into knots fighting the pain he was
feeding her if
he didn't let up. Finally he did. "Now, get on the bed,
Aimee'."
"You'll
kill me anyway," she gasped, looking up at him.
He backhanded
her. Although a mage and not a warrior, he was still a
strong man, and she staggered back, landing on the bed. He reached
down
and snatched her right wrist, wrapping a black band around it.
"I could
make it more painful, you know," he growled.
"It already
hurts!"
"I'll
make it worse!" he replied. "You weak bitch."
He turned her
over, and although she fought, his strength made her less than
a rag doll,
and he affixed another black band to her left wrist. "Take
her," he said
to the air, and the bands pulled her into the air. She whimpered.
"That's
it," he smiled at her. "That's it. Try and remember
the spells Darynn
taught you. Try and use them. Save yourself as much as possible.
It'll
just make my pleasure last longer."
Aimee' concentrated.
She tried to find the spells she knew, and in
the back of her mind they were marshalling to her defense. Chants
flowed
from her lips, soft and sensuous to her tongue as they healed
her wounds
and eased her pain. "Good," Teltirray sniggered.
"That's it. Make it
last longer." Her chest heaved as she breathed, gasping
the words to
spells that might make her last one more minute. She felt his
hand caress
her belly, her thighs. More bands went onto her ankles, and
Teltirray
spread her legs apart. His magic glued her to the wall over
his bed like
some obscene statue. She had spent more than one night like
that, over his
head, forced to sleep that way for his amusement. His hands
touched her
almost gently. "Say goodbye, Aimee'."
She looked
down at him, holding her voice for a moment. All she said
was, "Goodbye."
Teltirray
grimaced, taking up a heavy, knotted scourge in his hands.
"Now," he said, "Scream for me." The wall
behind Aimee' grew warm, and she
felt the flow of magic through it. She didn't know what the
magic was, but
she could feel it coursing into her, as if seeking something
within her.
It wasn't just magic... it was alive. And it was looking for
something
within her, but she could almost feel it's frustration and she
knew it
didn't know how to find what it was looking for.
Teltirray
was smiling at her, his eyes alight with madness. "It's
a
demon," he said. "A friend. It... supplies me with
the knowledge I need.
The cost, of course, is you. Not that I mind." His smile
twisted into an
ugly snarl. "It needs your pain, Aimee', but eventually
even that won't
do. Then, it wants your life. But it doesn't know how to find
it." He
looked down at the whip. "Pain is also his map. And this...
this will
show him the way."
He shouted
as he brought the whip down against her body. The blades
of black leather crashed against her belly and she grunted in
sharp pain.
The whip fell again, the tails landing hard against her thighs.
She
squirmed, holding her tongue in, trying not to scream. The presence
within
her turned, seeking. The whip came again, against her chest.
Ugly red
streaks grew from her skin.
As Teltirray
struck her, harder and harder, he began cursing her. "I
let Darynn teach you too well how to handle pain." His
efforts grew harder
as he slammed the whip into her skin, torturing her, giving her
all the
pain and suffering he could inflict. The presence within her
lived on the
pain, enjoying it as much as it seemed ready to enjoy her death.
She could
not afford to give in.
But the whip
was too persuasive. She bled from a dozen tortured
slashes, the crimson fluid coursing down her body. Darynn had
told her,
once, about how precious blood was, and Bethsany had talked about
the magic
of menstrual blood, and she herself knew what it meant to drop
it to the
soil. The whip fell once more, and finally she screamed.
"Yes!"
Teltirray shouted as he whipped her. "Scream, Aimee', scream!"
She did. She twisted and tore at her impenetrable bonds. Teltirray's
face
was covered in sweat, his muscles bunched, the whip flying over
his head to
strike at her body again and again in long, angry slashes. Aimee'
cried
and screamed as the tears dripped off her chin and the blood
streamed down
her body and dripped from her toes onto Teltirray's pillow.
And as she
screamed, her body fighting without her control, her mind
came oddly to peace. The demon was coming for her soul, now,
and she found
she could live with that. She opened her eyes.
In the background,
she heard the sounds of the whip and the screams of
her mouth, but in her eyes she saw only a door. A curious, oaken
door,
encarved with runes, and at the center it read, simply, Aimee'.
She knew
where she stood, and she knew there was no reason to fight.
She threw the
door open and waited for the demon to come for her.
It came.
A green, ugly thing, shaped like a man with the head of a
cow and the muscles of some corrupt machine, it charged for her,
its face
lewd and grinning.
But as it
lunged for the door, she felt a coolness about her throat,
and then something... someone blocked her view. A sword of icy
blue
flickered in her vision, and a squeal of indignant pain echoed
out in the
corridors of her mind. Then the body in her way was gone, running
after
the demon it... she had struck with the sword. She was dressed
in leathers
of the same cold blue of the sword. Aimee' looked out, wondering
what she
was staring it. The sky was a light grey color, and before her
spread a
cold, flat, sheet of dark grey ice. In the distance, two figures
fought,
the woman with the sword, and the green and hateful demon.
The demon
sprang for the woman, and the woman blocked the airborne
monster with an easy swipe of the sword. The demon thudded across
the ice.
"Girl!" she shouted at Aimee'. "You must kill
Teltirray! I will not be
able to hold this creature forever!"
"I don't
know how!"
"Yes,
you do! Now go!" The woman gestured, and a blue bolt flew
at
Aimee', striking her body.
She looked
out into the world. Her vision was blurred, and Teltirray
was panting, holding the whip in one hand, but he was not hitting
her
anymore. "Why don't you die?" he screamed at her.
"Die, you stupid bitch!
Die!"
He looked
at her, his eyes fixed at her. "I'll make you hurt so much
the demon will be sure to find your soul. To the Dark with whips."
He
reached forward, his hand on her belly, and began chanting.
Aimee'
recognized the spell, The Pain That Will Kill, and accepted it
into her
body. Her nerves began to burn. Teltirray had used this spell
on her
before, and she had learned, if not to enjoy it, to at least
understand it.
And as the pain reached into her soul, she heard the clash of
claws and
steel within. She grinned at Teltirray.
"Die,
damn you!" Teltirray's eyes narrowed as the sweat poured
from
his balding head. "Die!"
But Aimee'
refused to die. She refused to let him win. And as she
accepted The Pain That Will Kill, she recognized the sensation.
She knew
that spell. She had seen it in a mirror once, as The Pleasure
That Sings.
She had seen it a long time ago. In a book. Darynn's book.
And she knew
how to use The Pleasure That Sings. And in knowing, she saw
the
differences between the two spells. With an almost casual, contemptuous
thought, she turned Pain inside out and claimed it as her own.
The look in
Teltirray's face turned from hatred to shock as he felt
his hand burn. Flames erupted in his imagination. Surely he
had to be on
fire! He backed away from her, feeling The Pain That Will Kill
for the
first time directed at his own flesh. He screamed as the pain
became
instantly more than he could bear.
Aimee' had
no trouble maintaining the spell. It didn't matter anymore
if the power she needed to kill him killed her as well. His
demon was
busy, his power expended, his concentration ruined. She had
him. She
stepped away from the wall and fell to the bed, crumpling to
her knees. In
her soul, sword and claws clashed. And she knew who wielded
the sword. It
could only be.
"That
necklace!" Teltirray shouted. "Bethsany! That bitch!
I'll
kill her when I'm finished with you!" He leapt for, his
hands upon her,
grabbing for her throat.
Aimee' panicked,
and in her instinctual reaction her knee came up
solidly between his legs. Pain redoubled pain in Teltirray's
belly, and he
doubled over, grabbing at his crotch, his eyes closed with suffering.
"And, now, Master Teltirray, it's over." Seizing a
heavy candlestick
holder from the bedside, she smashed it down on his head. He
grunted in
surprise, but seemed unable to summon any more than that to his
defense.
She struck him again. Over and over until his skull staved in
and his
heart stopped beating. And then, in her own blinding pain from
the
suffering he had inflicted with the whip, she collapsed, falling
off the
bed and onto the floor.
She crawled,
slowly, to her cloak, pulling it over her. The magic had
stopped, and with it her strength had fled. She had only one
thought now,
one thing to sustain her. Sobbing softly, she opened the door
and limped
down the stairs. She escaped through the service door in the
kitchen.
The snow bit
bitterly into her feet, making her wince as she walked,
but she never slowed down. The cold ate at her through the rough,
thick
wool. It didn't matter. Her tears grew stronger, yet in the
dead of
winter even the hardiest thief dared not go out, and she walked
across the
city, block after frozen block, unmolested and alone. Finally,
her pain
reaching blinding proportions again, she found the door she sought.
She
collapsed in front of it, moaning softly in pain as she scabbed
her knee on
the icy stone, and pounded on the heavy oaken door with the flesh
of her
palm.
A rustle within,
a questioning inquiry through the door, a familiar
tickle of magic. Then, the sudden rush of bolts being thrown
and wards
being broken. The door threw open. "Aimee'!"
Darynn reached
down and picked her up, carrying her inside. The door
closed behind him. "You must be frozen!"
She suddenly
realized that he was holding her. With a whimper, she
threw her arms around him and held onto him for her life, realizing
that
she was safe, finally. Tears broke out of her again, and his
arms
surrounded her while she cried her final cry, letting out the
last year of
pain and suffering, giving it to Darynn, and then to the past.
"He's
dead," she gasped at one point. "He's dead."
"Are
you sure?"
Aimee' nodded.
"I... I crushed his skull." A snarl crossed her
pretty mouth as her eyes searched Darynn's face, looking for
confirmation.
"I dropped him to the floor with Pain and then I took the
candlestick and
hit him again and again and again until his blood and his brains
ran over
the bedsheets! He's dead, Darynn, he's dead!"
"Certainly
sounds like it." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "You're
bloody all over, Aimee'."
"Hurts,"
she agreed softly. "I... I need to get clean. And my boots.
I forgot to take the laces out of them. I need to get back..."
Darynn recognized
that kind of logic as belonging to someone in a
great deal of shock and confusion. "No, Aimee', you don't.
You need to
come with me."
"But...
Teltirray..."
"Is dead,
remember?" He smiled gently, a smile that hid his fear
within. "Come. Come with me."
"If...
you're sure it's safe?"
"Very,"
Darynn replied. "Come."
She finally
agreed and followed him. He led her into the bedroom,
then through to the bath. "Sit," he said, indicating
the large wooden tub.
She complied. He drew warm water for her, and did his best to
clean the
wounds that crossed her belly, breasts, and thighs. The dried
blood
softened with the water and slowly he exposed the beautiful girl
who lay
hidden underneath all that running redness. With a few gentle
spells he
closed the worst of her wounds, the ones that still wept blood
and serum.
He found himself
wondering what she would look like in the throes of
passion, or even the pain of whips when the whips were lovingly
administered. It was the first time in decades he had considered
a woman
as a companion, and the first time ever that the idea actually
appealed to
him. Yet, it wasn't Aimee's femininity that appealed to him
so much as it
was her raw, inner strength. She had killed Teltirray, to hear
her say it.
And within, he believed her. He was as sure as she that Teltirray
had come
to earn what he deserved.
And, curiously,
her shape appealed to him as well. The effect was
indescribable. Something new, he realized, and he did not reject
the
thought. It did not bother him that he found someone beautiful
just
because he was unfamiliar with her kind of beauty. "Sir?"
he heard her
ask.
Looking down,
he realized that he had cupped her breast in his hand
and was fondling her gently. "My apologies, Aimee'. I
was... distracted."
Yet, he could not imagine what he would do with her. Actually,
he knew
full well. He just could not imagine a balance to it, the kind
of balance
he found among men, where each could fulfill both roles, as taker
and
giver, with a woman, even though he knew full well that most
people lived
lives of such imbalance every day. "There will be an investigation,
you
know."
She nodded,
her eyes barely open. "I know. I wonder what will
happen?"
"I do
not know." He stroked her wet and glistening skin, so red
and
dark, and found himself wishing he could touch more of her.
What more did
he want?
Then, he remembered.
And he smiled. He wanted her to undress in his
presence and say that she wanted him. To be as forward, as forceful,
as
gleefully hungry to bed him as any boy or man Darynn had ever
had. For
that, he could wait.
He helped
her out of the tub and dried her off. She stumbled a little
as she walked, but she finally and successfully navigated her
way to a
bedroom he showed her, and finally he pulled the blankets over
her and she
was asleep. |