laceandcogs
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2010
- Posts
- 664
Cal's kiss, and the bite that prolonged it, drew a moan from Gina. A low, long sound of liquid heat, a breathless, catching quality to it that matched the tremble in her slender body. He'd seen fit to unfasten her shorts, and damned if she wouldn't take him up on such a delicious invitation. Slowly but with determination, Gina pulled her lip free from his teeth, delighting in the warm, slight pain.
Arching with a sensuous need, Gina kept her eyes on Cal's as she wriggled the material past her hips and worked it down her lean, taut thighs. The graceful flick of one foot kicked the shorts aside, freeing her to lean forward and press gentle, hungry little kisses to Cal's chest. She worked over his throat, his shoulders, her lips and tongue exploring every inch of salted flesh. Drawing herself into a kneel to better reach him, Gina released a soft sigh of lust.
With her hands sliding along the lean, powerful muscles of his arms, Gina could not have noticed Cal's half-lidded eyes drift to their reflection. Cast in the giant windows behind them, it was an arousing sight by any standard- Gina's lithe kneeling form, enraptured by the taste of the hollow of Cal's collarbone, the firm, fine line of her spine, the slice of lace-edged panties across the compact curve of her hip...
But that wasn't Cal. Not anymore. As the figure in the window threw his head back with a groan of lust, his shaggy black hair tossed over one shoulder. His face, a mask of hunger and dark need, was thinner, angular in a nearly lupine fashion. Where Cal's body was leanly muscled, his was wiry- nearly overthin, roped with tough strength. His eyes opened, unremarkable pools of muddy brown that could have belonged to anyone. He was a man that could have been anyone, a man that you would pass on the street twice a day without noticing. However, when he chose to notice you, the veil could be drawn off, and you could see the one extraordinary feature- the spark of perfect, pristine evil burning so lowly in those eyes. It was a light of sorts, a glow of intelligence beyond- no, not beyond, below that of a mortal man, a love of corruption and pain that brightened this man's smile with childlike delight.
The movie that played out before Cal now on the screen of those windows borrowed so heavily from reality that he could have believed it, were it not for the warm, moving presence of Gina before him. Her reflected counter took a moment to notice that the man before her was no longer Cal. Though her face was turned toward the Dark Man, and thus invisible to Cal, he could see the sudden tension of her back, the scrabble of her hands on the tabletop as she tried to move away too quickly. The Dark Man's hand moved slowly, almost without threat, gripping mirror-Gina's jaw in his fingers like any lover might. Forcing her to look into his eyes, he stared at her a moment, the smile on his lips dancing between sweet and animal. The Dark Man guided her to turn her head, and Cal could see his mouth form words. Whether he could hear the man speak or not could be left to maddening debate, but what he said was clear. "Gina. We are on the stage, lovely girl. Let's respect our audience."
Time seemed to unspool, to lie wasted and immobile as the Dark Man shifted Gina's trembling body. She tried to fight, the fear-bred tension screaming from every curve and bone, but either his strength was immense, or her body would no longer submit to her control. He pressed her stomach against the table, positioning her elbows, brushing hair off her shoulder. The Dark Man took his time here, posing Gina like some demented photographer.
This careful preparation only heightened the sense of insanity, of cunning and remorseless cruelty. To know that this creature thought of Gina as a prop, as an instrument in the creation of a masterwork of torture... it would have been too much, should have been too much. Yet no man could have looked away. Nothing could have turned its face from one of Randall Flagg's productions.
The Dark Man looked directly into Cal's eyes as he thrust into Gina, her body tensing and then falling half-limp. His own eyes half-shut in pleasure, and a meaty red tongue stroked over his lower lip with a slavering joy. His hands, calloused like Cal's but thinner, longer, like an artist's or a surgeon's (or like two great alien spiders, like a matched set of bone-backed leeches, these and a thousand more warped, animal images) gripped Gina's hips hard enough to dent and bruise her flesh. "Gina... look. Look at your audience. They came to watch us dance."
Mirror-Gina would not respond. Perhaps she couldn't. This disobedience twisted a moue of displeasure over the Dark Man's face, and he gripped a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. Gina's reflected expression was born of an animal fear, an inhuman pain. It walked a tenuous line between unrewarding, unrelenting sanity and the comforting embrace of mental disconnect. Her eyes, impossibly wide and ringed with star-bright whites, rolled in her head like a frightened horse's. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, and here Cal could finally be grateful- he could not hear Gina, only the Dark Man. It was a small grace, for he could still know, even without aural confirmation, that every sound she made would have been a keening, desperate cry of pain, a sharp gasp of uncomprehending chill.
Gina herself had been spared this vision, but she felt the change in Cal's body. It was none-too-gradual, intense, and she startled as she felt his fists form knots of rage. She tensed as she felt his body shift, the blighted desire to rend and redden his teeth with the gore of some unknown offender. Moving slowly, she pulled her lips from his throat and leaned back. "Cal? Cal, where are you right now?"
To see her face twice, one a picture of soft concern and one etched in perfect terror, could be truly frightening. Reflected-Gina would not, could not meet Cal's eyes, her blank gaze fixed on some distant pleasant point as the Dark Man shuddered and bucked against her in his pleasure. Real, warm, live Gina grew still, her half-dressed body tense and nervous as Cal continued to stare at whatever private horror he watched over her shoulder. Her hands remained on his shoulders, but only because she could not be sure whether she should move or not, whether she should speak or wait for him.
With a final wink, the Dark Man released Cal's mind from his private theater, the windows once again reflecting only the truth- a crouched, half-frightened Gina looking intently into Cal's face, and Cal himself.
Arching with a sensuous need, Gina kept her eyes on Cal's as she wriggled the material past her hips and worked it down her lean, taut thighs. The graceful flick of one foot kicked the shorts aside, freeing her to lean forward and press gentle, hungry little kisses to Cal's chest. She worked over his throat, his shoulders, her lips and tongue exploring every inch of salted flesh. Drawing herself into a kneel to better reach him, Gina released a soft sigh of lust.
With her hands sliding along the lean, powerful muscles of his arms, Gina could not have noticed Cal's half-lidded eyes drift to their reflection. Cast in the giant windows behind them, it was an arousing sight by any standard- Gina's lithe kneeling form, enraptured by the taste of the hollow of Cal's collarbone, the firm, fine line of her spine, the slice of lace-edged panties across the compact curve of her hip...
But that wasn't Cal. Not anymore. As the figure in the window threw his head back with a groan of lust, his shaggy black hair tossed over one shoulder. His face, a mask of hunger and dark need, was thinner, angular in a nearly lupine fashion. Where Cal's body was leanly muscled, his was wiry- nearly overthin, roped with tough strength. His eyes opened, unremarkable pools of muddy brown that could have belonged to anyone. He was a man that could have been anyone, a man that you would pass on the street twice a day without noticing. However, when he chose to notice you, the veil could be drawn off, and you could see the one extraordinary feature- the spark of perfect, pristine evil burning so lowly in those eyes. It was a light of sorts, a glow of intelligence beyond- no, not beyond, below that of a mortal man, a love of corruption and pain that brightened this man's smile with childlike delight.
The movie that played out before Cal now on the screen of those windows borrowed so heavily from reality that he could have believed it, were it not for the warm, moving presence of Gina before him. Her reflected counter took a moment to notice that the man before her was no longer Cal. Though her face was turned toward the Dark Man, and thus invisible to Cal, he could see the sudden tension of her back, the scrabble of her hands on the tabletop as she tried to move away too quickly. The Dark Man's hand moved slowly, almost without threat, gripping mirror-Gina's jaw in his fingers like any lover might. Forcing her to look into his eyes, he stared at her a moment, the smile on his lips dancing between sweet and animal. The Dark Man guided her to turn her head, and Cal could see his mouth form words. Whether he could hear the man speak or not could be left to maddening debate, but what he said was clear. "Gina. We are on the stage, lovely girl. Let's respect our audience."
Time seemed to unspool, to lie wasted and immobile as the Dark Man shifted Gina's trembling body. She tried to fight, the fear-bred tension screaming from every curve and bone, but either his strength was immense, or her body would no longer submit to her control. He pressed her stomach against the table, positioning her elbows, brushing hair off her shoulder. The Dark Man took his time here, posing Gina like some demented photographer.
This careful preparation only heightened the sense of insanity, of cunning and remorseless cruelty. To know that this creature thought of Gina as a prop, as an instrument in the creation of a masterwork of torture... it would have been too much, should have been too much. Yet no man could have looked away. Nothing could have turned its face from one of Randall Flagg's productions.
The Dark Man looked directly into Cal's eyes as he thrust into Gina, her body tensing and then falling half-limp. His own eyes half-shut in pleasure, and a meaty red tongue stroked over his lower lip with a slavering joy. His hands, calloused like Cal's but thinner, longer, like an artist's or a surgeon's (or like two great alien spiders, like a matched set of bone-backed leeches, these and a thousand more warped, animal images) gripped Gina's hips hard enough to dent and bruise her flesh. "Gina... look. Look at your audience. They came to watch us dance."
Mirror-Gina would not respond. Perhaps she couldn't. This disobedience twisted a moue of displeasure over the Dark Man's face, and he gripped a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. Gina's reflected expression was born of an animal fear, an inhuman pain. It walked a tenuous line between unrewarding, unrelenting sanity and the comforting embrace of mental disconnect. Her eyes, impossibly wide and ringed with star-bright whites, rolled in her head like a frightened horse's. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, and here Cal could finally be grateful- he could not hear Gina, only the Dark Man. It was a small grace, for he could still know, even without aural confirmation, that every sound she made would have been a keening, desperate cry of pain, a sharp gasp of uncomprehending chill.
Gina herself had been spared this vision, but she felt the change in Cal's body. It was none-too-gradual, intense, and she startled as she felt his fists form knots of rage. She tensed as she felt his body shift, the blighted desire to rend and redden his teeth with the gore of some unknown offender. Moving slowly, she pulled her lips from his throat and leaned back. "Cal? Cal, where are you right now?"
To see her face twice, one a picture of soft concern and one etched in perfect terror, could be truly frightening. Reflected-Gina would not, could not meet Cal's eyes, her blank gaze fixed on some distant pleasant point as the Dark Man shuddered and bucked against her in his pleasure. Real, warm, live Gina grew still, her half-dressed body tense and nervous as Cal continued to stare at whatever private horror he watched over her shoulder. Her hands remained on his shoulders, but only because she could not be sure whether she should move or not, whether she should speak or wait for him.
With a final wink, the Dark Man released Cal's mind from his private theater, the windows once again reflecting only the truth- a crouched, half-frightened Gina looking intently into Cal's face, and Cal himself.
