Chapter Twenty Two
On the training ground, Dahlia watched her barrack’s performance with satisfaction. They were an effective and varied force. Amused, she watched Fidelity taking out her frustration on Genji. They were very nearly an even match. Genji’s fluidity and self-control barely holding up against Fidelity’s barrage of ferocious attacks. Once the woman learned that occasionally restraint was better than an all out attack--no matter how good your stamina--she’d be a force to reckon with.
Dahlia made a note to talk to Fidelity about restraint once the sting of her latest lesson had worn off a bit. Or better yet, a practical demonstration against Arreal, enlisting his help. Fidelity tended to respond better to having a lesson knocked into her in a match than from a heart-to-heart.
She called the fighters off and sent them on a run with Genji in the lead. She saw Fidelity streak off after him, outstripping everyone to run slightly behind him. Genji may be in the lead, but Fidelity wanted him to know it was only because their captain had put him there. Dahlia smiled. Genji, with his off-kilter sense of humor, deserved someone giving him a hard time.
Sabir and Arreal faced her, waiting for her instruction. She thought for a moment.
“Let’s have you face off against each other, I’ll give you feedback and then you can each work with me and practice the feedback.”
They nodded and turned to face each other. Dahlia loved to watch the two men fight. It was like watching yin and yang dance. Sabir, solid and immoveable grasped his dual weapons and they transformed into axes, shorter and heavier than Dahlia’s but similar in construct. Arreal, graceful and precise, raised his hand and a swarm of fragments shaped into a delicate blade.
They circled each other, Arreal’s quick step keeping up with Sabir’s ground devouring strides. They tested one another, jabbing and feinting, trying to find an opening. Arreal struck first; his sword flashed towards Sabir’s left side and came apart. A spray of fragments the width of the blade streaked towards the man. Sabir dropped his center of gravity slightly and placed an ax between the fragments and his body. Then he whipped the other ax out, releasing it to fly towards Arreal. The edge moved quickly towards the slighter man who was forced to abandon his attack and dodge the weapon. Arreal’s fragments shot back and reformed the sword in his hand while Sabir’s ax zipped back into his hand as if on a recoiling spring. Sabir’s abilities included the interesting skill of shaping and controlling metal, very effective in a fight. Arreal countered it with his own metal-based abilities, being able to fragment and control a custom-crafted sword.
“Very nice, both of you. Arreal, if you’d aimed in a little bit he might have blocked with his right ax and it would have left his left side open if he’d pulled back to throw the other ax.”
The two men circled again, Sabir moving forward and Arreal keeping distance. When Sabir’s larger steps brought him in range he moved in quickly, sweeping one ax low then the other high, keeping his range tight so as not to expose his body. Arreal was forced back faster than he was comfortable with. As he danced back he pulled his arm back and the sword shattered to form a whip from the fragments. Regaining control of the pace, he brought it back across towards Sabir who threw himself underneath it, rolling against the strike, and coming up to Arreal’s right side. Sabir slashed at the man’s leg as Arreal let the momentum of his swing continue to turn him and he leapt up, over the ax. His sword reformed and he came out of the mid-air turn bringing it down toward Sabir. Sabir caught it in the head of an ax and Arreal continued on his path towards Sabir’s left, keeping just ahead of the swing. Arreal whipped his sword down towards Sabir’s midsection. Sabir shifted his weight and, pushing off his back leg, rammed his shoulder against Arreal to push the sword strike off balance. Arreal’s sword glanced off Sabir’s thigh leaving a shallow red line behind.
“You’re going to have to hit our thick skinned giant harder than that, Arreal,” Dahlia called as Sabir went on the offensive and Arreal concentrated on keeping out of range. She watched them dance a bit further before calling out to to Sabir, “Sabir, if you know he’s faster than you don’t let him set the pace, he’ll always recover before you gain enough ground.”
She had them go a bit longer before calling them off then working through the feedback she’d given them. She worked with Sabir first, pushing the pace hard until he stopped following her with short, fast maneuvers and settled into blocking and setting up for more powerful strikes. Since he’d chosen weapons similar to her own she worked with him a bit on handling as well. Then she lead Arreal, giving him fast, solid blocks until he increased power enough to break through. Sabir’s ability to turn his skin into virtual armor wasn’t common, but it took a similar amount of power to break through and make him bleed as to break an opponent’s block and power wasn’t Arreal’s forte.
She walked back with them to the main area where the rest of the barrack was breaking for lunch. She ate with them then left her members to drill their abilities under Arreal and Sabir’s guidance while she spent the afternoon on work and examining her traps and tools. She found two that needed some attention and she cleaned up the maze trap as a precaution. By the time she’d finished her barrack members had returned with Sabir and Arreal. She decided they could follow her in a movement meditation before she dismissed them for the rest of the day. Then she returned to her own room with a book.
It was one she’d read many times before, full of old lore, created by men who were no longer alive then handed down through the ages. It was in this book that she’d found theories about her unique abilities and, consequently, fears about her future.
The title she’d been given, Puppet Master, originated here. A man obscured by time, shadows, and fear. He walked through a number of the old tales, like a figure you see out of the corner of your eye that vanishes when you turn to get a better look. Whenever his name appeared people lost their minds, lost control, or simply vanished. Occasionally they turned up years later raving about a maze and a fog. More often they never returned. He controlled shadows that moved like smoke and could never be caught and held.
Growing up, Dahlia had had visions of a labyrinth where she was safe. She would close her eyes and focus very hard until it appeared around her. The maze would change constantly, but she always knew right where she was. One evening, as a young girl, she caught part of a tale as her parents hustled her past a wandering storyteller. He spoke of someone called the Puppet Master who, he said, could invite people into a dark maze. The man’s sinister tone rolled past the child. All she heard was hope that she wasn’t the only one and that the other man had friends with him. The next afternoon she thought it would be fun if she could bring a friend into her maze, too. An unlucky cat was her first guest. She held it and pulled it into the maze with her.
To her horror, it began twitching and spitting the moment they were inside. She dropped it where it lay, convulsing terribly. She tried desperately to pull it back out in time but the poor thing’s heart gave out before she could return it from her maze. Her arms scratched and bloody, she cried over the cat’s body then buried it. She took care to hide her arms under long sleeves and never told a soul. She still returned to the maze but she noticed darkness and fog had crept in. She pushed the man’s tale from her mind, buried deep with the cat, but she couldn’t remove the fear of her own ability that had grown from the experience.
Her ability to manifest puppets began as she turned from a small child into a young lady. Shortly after her thirteenth birthday she confided in a friend that she planned to marry one of the handsome boys in her class. Word got passed to that boy who laughed at her and told her she looked more like a boy than a girl. She cried when he told her she’d be lucky to marry at all with her thin hips and oddly colored hair, much less someone like him.
Hiding her broken heart in her parent’s garden that evening, she again walked through her maze. She came upon a girl that looked very much like herself sitting with her head on her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs. As Dahlia approached, the girl looked up and Dahlia saw tears streaming down her face.
“Why are you crying?” Dahlia had asked, reaching out to the girl.
“Because I’m ugly and no one will ever love me,” the girl had replied.
Dahlia stroked the girl’s auburn hair out of her face and comforted her. “You are very pretty and I would love to be your friend.”
The girl stopped crying, “I would love to have a friend.”
The girls wandered the maze together and it didn’t seem as dark. Eventually Dahlia’s mother’s voice called her back from the maze and Dahlia had to leave her new friend but promised to return.
The next day she had confronted the school friend she had confided in. The girl had laughed at her and told Dahlia she’d never have real friends because she was too weird with her strange hair and habit of staring off into space.
“I do have a friend!” Dahlia had screamed at her as a group of students gathered to watch.
“Sure you do,” the girl had retorted. “It’s imaginary because everyone knows you’re crazy!”
Dahlia had pushed her and the girl had shoved her back, hard enough to make Dahlia fall. Then the school girl had cried out and fallen to the floor herself. Dahlia’s new friend from the maze stood over her, kicking the girl. The students watching fled and Dahlia’s rage dissipated as shock took over. She pulled her new friend off the screaming girl and they ran.
That night men from the training school came for her. They sat down in the main room of Dahlia’s family home and asked her about the fight. They asked about her friend and how Dahlia had created her. They smiled, gave her treats, and told Dahlia that everything was alright. She wasn’t in trouble, they just wanted to know if she had abilities that made her special. Dahlia told them about the maze and about her new friend and they said that was alright, she wasn’t crazy, she’d just been given a gift that she could use to help people.
She was upset to find that they expected her to pack a single bag and leave with them immediately. Both they and her parents were kind but firm; she was no longer able to stay in the house she had grown up in. The next morning she was enrolled in training.
She was trained in weapons and combat first. She excelled in both and found she wasn’t as unusual in her new home as she had been where she’d grown up. Her hair was still unusual but not as remarkable. A number of the other young men and women had strange shades as well and some were very exotic, coming from all over. One young man even had shockingly white hair and strange, vertically-slit golden eyes.
Her experience with the school children had made her wary and she hid somewhere she could be alone any time she wanted to visit her labyrinth. She saw her friend there but the girl didn’t appear in the outside world again. Dahlia stayed quiet and reserved, still feeling like a stranger even among these strange young men and women.
Training went well and she found she excelled with dual weapons, another unusual skill. She was uncomfortable with the attention this brought so she began to down play it and practiced more during meal times and at night when fewer trainees were around. Things continued fine until she began to notice that the people around her began to react to emotions she thought she was hiding and that she, in turn, felt like they were screaming their inner thoughts and feelings at her. She became more and more withdrawn and avoided them. She spent more time practicing alone, only joining the others for mandated instruction and then being careful to dampen her emotions. It continued for a few weeks until one of the trainers assigned to members with strong psychic abilities suddenly stopped Dahlia in passing.
“What’s your name?” she’d asked Dahlia. Dahlia discovered the woman’s presence was silent. In a sea of emotion, Dahlia was drawn to her quiet aura.
“Dahlia DeMorra, ma’am.”
“And do you know why your presence is so loud?” Her voice was quiet but Dahlia almost cried, thinking she’d done something this peaceful woman disapproved of.
“No ma’am, I’m sorry I’m being so loud. Please, tell me,” Dahlia’s tone was pleading, “how is it that you are so quiet? Everyone else...it’s like they’re yelling at me.”
“Come with me,” the woman had told her. “I think I can help.”
The woman led Dahlia into an office. She lit a circle of candles and Dahlia felt something flare out from the woman and everything fell silent. Dahlia felt her body relax in a way she hadn’t been able to in weeks.
“There, I imagine that’s better, isn’t it?”
Dahlia nodded, “Yes ma’am, thank you.”
“It seems your ability to sense the surface thoughts of others is just developing before most people with psychic abilities. But I have never felt someone projecting their own emotions in a way that caused others to resonate so strongly with her. Please remain here and relax while I get someone who will know more. Help yourself to some of the tea on the table, there. It may help your mind further relax.”
Dahlia had waited, sipping the tea and basking in the silence. The woman had returned a while later with a man carrying a book. The same book Dahlia now owned. When she first saw it the title caught the young woman’s attention. It was obviously a book of stories.
The man had a short, white beard and long, white hair divided into many braids and bound up on the top of his head. He carried the same peaceful stillness that the woman did. Dahlia rose and bowed to him.
“Hello Dahlia,” his voice was rich and deep. “You may call me Master Ko. I’ve heard you’ve been having a little trouble with noise and notice from other people.”
Dahlia nodded, “Yes, sir.”
“I’d like to ask you a few question, if I may.”
Dahlia again nodded, “Of course, sir.”
“Good then. I looked at your recruitment file. It mentioned you’re able to move your conscious mind into another space others cannot visit. Much like a labyrinth?”
Dahlia hesitated, “There’s a labyrinth. It doesn’t seem good for most other people to go there.”
He frowned a bit, Dahlia’s heart beat faster. She didn’t want to disappoint the man who might be able to help her.
“And who is it that can go there with you?”
“Please, sir, I apologize if I’m answering anything in a way that disappoints you. I haven’t been able to take anyone there and haven’t tried again after I took a cat with me. But there was a girl I met there.”
“Don’t worry,” Master Ko replied, giving her a small smile. “Nothing you say will upset me. It is simply unusual and I am very interested in understanding. This girl, can you tell me more about her? I heard your abilities were discovered when another girl appeared with you in your old school. Was she not an illusion?”
“No, sir. I haven’t seen her outside of the maze since but she appeared that one time and knocked another girl to the ground who was hurting me.”
Master Ko kept his face neutral, “I see and what does she look like? Is she dark?”
“Oh no sir! She looks like me.”
His expression lightened a tiny bit. “And now you can hear what other people are thinking and feeling?”
“I catch bits and pieces, Master Ko. At least it feels that way. And it’s very loud.”
“Now this is very important Dahlia, have you purposefully made them think or feel anything. Answer me truthfully, you won’t be in any trouble.”
“No sir.”
“You have never tried?”
“No sir.”
“I understand. And I would like to ask one more thing of you.”
“Of course, sir.”
“I am going to let you hear one of my thoughts. You and I are perfectly safe and it will be a good thought. I’d like you to try and touch that thought.”
“I-i will try,” she stammered, looking down.
“Good,” he held her eyes with his as she looked back at him and suddenly Dahlia felt a warmth coming from him: good intentions and kind interest. It was so welcome and comforting that she felt her mind reach out involuntarily to brush against that warmth. His eyes opened a bit wider but he didn’t withdraw.
“Ok, thank you Dahlia, I’m going to put my shield back up, alright?”
Dahlia nodded again and the warmth vanished.
“You have a surprising amount of strength available to you, we’ll need to add to your training. Until you have learned to shield your thoughts and emotions you will stay with Professor Kyarra”, he motioned to the woman, “so that she is able to give you a shield. I think you’ll find life will be much better and interactions with others much more comfortable once you’ve mastered that. Then you can return to your weapons and combat training.”
Tears welled up in Dahlia’s eyes and she blinked them back. She bowed again to both of them, “Thank you Master Ko, thank you Professor Kyarra.”
Shortly after that Dahlia began to train with Professor Kyarra’s team in addition to her training with the young men and women her age. Life did, indeed, get better. She learned how to shield her projections and how to filter or fully shield against the thoughts and emotions of others. She could again interact normally with the people around her. She saw Master Ko infrequently but he kept tabs on her and she enjoyed the sessions she did have with him.
The book Master Ko had held that day and his carefully controlled expression stuck with her though. Eventually she found her way into the library and, after much searching, was able to locate it. She flipped through the pages, reading about dragons, heroes, and battles long past. She paused as she began to encounter the Puppet Master. As he skulked and slipped through the passages she began to see disturbing similarities between his abilities and her own. As she finished the final page and put the book down she walked to Master Ko’s office.
She knocked and was bade enter. She walked to him and stood before the man.
“Master Ko, please, when you first asked about my powers, tell me what you saw.”
He looked puzzled, “I saw a young woman with valuable potential.”
“But you were concerned you saw something else, too? Something darker? I recalled the book you were holding and I noticed the similarities. You must have seen them as well.”
Master Ko’s face fell. “I was careless and you are very observant. I had hoped you would not face that until much later.”
Dahlia remained silent.
“It is true that your powers have similarities to the stories and they haven’t been seen in any other record I have. It is true that your abilities in the psychic realm are far beyond anything I’ve seen in other trainees of your age. But it is also true that I have seen nothing in you that would lead me to believe we have anything to fear from you. I believe you are no more than you appear to be,” he told her.
He sighed before continuing, “However, there is another part to the old stories that very few have heard but among those that do, notably our council, there may be concern. It is said that when the Puppet Master died the gods brought judgement against him and trapped his own soul in a labyrinth of their making as just punishment for his entrapment of mortal men. But the soul was able to learn even the minds of the gods and escaped to return to the mortal realm.”
Dahlia felt her chest tighten, “Master, you are saying that I may hold this soul?”
Master Ko looked tired, “I am saying that some people take old stories too literally. All we know is that you appear to be developing similar abilities to a man whose true nature was lost in time. But others will jump from that observation into fear and they will label it caution.”
“What will they do with me?”
“Nothing. I suspect a number of people would be upset with me for telling you this, but I have been in discussion with the commander of our forces, Captain Mazaran, as well as the council. Once it became apparent that I could not dismiss your talent or your abilities as anything outside of extraordinary I was bound to report them. Once you have finished here it has been determined that you will join a barrack and be kept under observation. You will be given the title of Puppet Master in an attempt to appease the soul of the original by showing it proper respect in case you and it are one and the same. It is superstitious nonsense in my opinion. Try not to dwell on that bit.”
Dahlia stayed silent for a moment. In any other circumstance she would have been thrilled to find out she’d already been promised a place in one of the barracks, a recognition given to only the best trainees. But to be given that position hand in hand with fear and the title of a demon out of legends…
“Sir, if I were to contain the same soul, would I not know it?”
Master Ko shook his head, “See there lies the mystery. I see no indication that you are anything but what you appear. But others feel this proves nothing for typically souls have their memories erased as they return to the mortal realm and, had you not, they feel you would likely have the power to conceal and deceive.”
She sat silently. Master Ko lit up his face with a kind smile, “Do not let this weigh on you. Nothing will happen for you have shown no indication of having darker motives and many more people will value your strengths and abilities than will fear them. I have let out the secret that you will be assigned to a barrack and you will have incredible potential there. I suggest you let it go, do not let it weigh on you but do take the book and try to experiment with some of what you see there. At the moment it’s the best guide we have to how your abilities may develop.”
Puppet Master…
The name echoed in her mind as did the man’s kindly smile as she looked up from the book and the memories she’d been lost in. She hadn’t been able to follow his wishes. She’d let the name weigh on her and had let fear take root. She bowed her head.
Forgive me, Master, for you were a better teacher than I was a worthy student.
Her door sliding open brought her out of her reverie. She looked up to see Kenny’s grin and felt a small pump of adrenaline.
“You’re out late,” was the first thought that came to her lips.
“Heard you killed all our prisoners since the last time I saw you.” He was joking...at least he’d better have been.
“Two survived. Heard you lost the team member we recovered,” she quipped back without thinking.
“Now where would you hear that? That’s supposed to be classified,” amusement was thick in his voice. “I see Nallia’s empty teapot over there.”
“Did you…”
“Did I what?” he asked, expression staying the same.
“Did you ask Nallia to bring me the tea?”
“Heard a bunch of the prisoners died. Figured you’d be worn out.” He was teasing but Dahlia felt like he was watching her for something. If he had been the one to suggest Nallia bring her tea then had he suggested Nallia tell her about the disappearance as well? She couldn’t think of a way to ask without revealing Nallia had been the one to tell her. It seemed likely but why?
“Thank you, saving the one did take a lot out of me.”
He sat down with her and placed a package on the table. She hadn’t noticed he was carrying anything. He nodded towards it.
“Brought you something.”
Dahlia glanced at him before sliding the package over to herself and opening it. Inside were jet black chains. She arched an eyebrow.
“Thank you? I always wanted something to chain people up in my dungeon with.”
He laughed, “Now that’s an interesting idea. I asked someone to make them for you for your axes. They’re created to attach to whatever you want: each other, the ax handles, your wrists.”
She blushed.
“...so you can throw your weapons and still pull them back,” he continued slowly, clearly enjoying her reaction. “I have one on my sword, it comes in handy.”
Dahlia really was lost for words. The gift must have cost him a great deal. Or else the maker must have owed him a lot. Each link would have had to have been made by hand and crafted to work with the others as part of a whole. That took time, metalwork, and an unusual ability. Give Sabir another hundred years and maybe he’d be that good.
“Thank you,” she managed. She stood up and collected her axes from where she’d laid them. She brought them over to the table and pulled the chains out. With a slight bit of effort she linked the chains to the axes and then to each other. The links shrunk until the chain was about the width of her spread arms. Then she disconnected them and with another bit of effort they wrapped around her wrists and most of the way up her forearms.
The links felt cool against her skin and moved like liquid. They were seamless and the make was easily of equal quality as her axes. She still didn’t know what to say.
“They’re beautiful,” came out at last.
He looked admiringly at them. “They are that.”
Silence stretched between them as she placed her axes back down by the table.
“Nallia’s tea really is better with honey,” Dahlia needed to reconnect her brain, apparently her filter had gone missing.
“She keeps telling me that.” He paused. Then, “Mind if I ask you something?”
“How could I refuse?”
He looked unusually serious. “I didn’t give you those because I wanted something.” He paused again and grinned, ”Not like that anyway. If you don’t want to tell me I’ll get it. It’s just curiosity.”
Dahlia looked at him, “Ok, what is it?”
“Mazaran called you ‘Puppet Master’. Took me a while to remember where I’d heard it from. Isn’t he a boogie man from stories kids tell?”
Dahlia’s mouth went dry. Kenny looked at her curiously, “You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, it’s ok, I’d just been thinking about it. Yes, he’s a creature from old stories. I happen to have abilities similar to his.”
“Like mind control and the extra copies of you?” He seemed comfortable with the idea. Many people reacted to her abilities with fear. It got worse when they made the connection to the ‘boogie man’.
“It’s not really mind control like you’re thinking. I don’t knock down someone’s ability to control themselves and make them walk around like a zombie. Even if I could I couldn’t do it and control my own body at the same time, that’d be like possession or something. It’s more like pushing and pulling the right strings. Whispering in someone’s mind and then pulling on something they already feel or think to move them in the direction you want.”
“What’s it feel like?”
“For me? It’s almost physical. I can sense different channels on someone’s mind and then push or pull them.”
“For the people you do it to.” He seemed simply curious.
“Oh...it depends on how I do it. If I’m gentle and it’s something floating on the surface then nothing but an unusually strong feeling or desire.” She hadn’t meant to tell him all this but she felt something like relief that he didn’t recoil and the relief lubricated her tongue.
“What if you’re not gentle?”
“It can be bad. You saw the archer we caught up to. I can break someone. It’s a violation in a way few people are able to understand or prepare for. Something that’s been so basic you’ve never questioned it--the sanctity of your own mind--is suddenly shattered. It can leave permanent damage.”
“Could you do something to me? Without cracking my skull open.”
“Could I or would I?”
“Will you? If someone likes playing tricks in people’s minds, I’d like to know what I’m looking for.”
She avoided answering his request directly, “Yes, it looks that way. The things he left in his own people were beyond cruel.”
“But you were stronger, you were able to dismantle them?”
“It’s not just strength, though I lean a lot more on strength than I should. Someone with better technique could probably best me. It’s also a difference in my abilities. It’s like, say, the difference between feeling your way through in the dark versus working under a midday sun. When Captain Lenoi was holding back the trap in the prisoners’ minds she had to feel out the destructive energy then push against it. I could actually see a physical representation of it. I could look at its structure and plan how to dismantle it.”
“Will you do something to me? I can’t fight what I’m not able to look for.”
“You wouldn’t ask me to if you knew what it was like.”
“Wouldn’t have to ask if I already knew,” he pushed back.
“Fine,” she said abruptly and stood up. He stayed seated and she walked around the table to him and placed her palm outspread on the table in front of him then one hand on his massive shoulder. She was annoyed. Annoyed at him and at herself. Mostly herself. She’d told him more than she should have because she’d felt relief at having someone not face her abilities with fear. Now he’d asked her to do the one thing that would likely make him look at her the same way everyone else who knew did. She shouldn’t have let herself feel that, should have remembered every other time she’d let someone see too much. She wished he hadn’t asked.
She focused and reached out, very careful not to push him. The shield before her was massive. A simple black wall without cracks or purchases, built from his complete confidence in who and what he was and what he wanted. It was rare to see someone with that level of comfort with themselves. A brute but a happy brute, she thought uncharitably.
She reached out and brushed along the perimeter of his mind, picking up stray thoughts and emotions. His pupils dilated just a bit and his eyes widened as his body reacted to the barely perceptible threat she now posed but he remained still.
She went with something easy that he’d already shown her. She found his lust for her, unhidden and surface level. Her mind whispered to his in his own voice that, if he were to fall to both his knees, surely he could have her again. Then she pushed on the desire to override any barriers that would have held him back.
The massive warrior before her fell to one knee. Then, faster than she could follow he caught her other arm before a second knee could hit the ground. She felt a jolt of the energy that she’d used to push on him feed back into her. She felt her body respond on its own accord; her breath caught as her nipples grew hard and she felt herself drawn forwards. She cut off a soft moan.
She’d never seen anyone able to react so quickly. The energy should have done its work and dissipated before he’d been able to sense it and push it away. She hadn’t realized he was that fast and hadn’t suspected he’d have the awareness to counter what she’d done.
She tried to cool her heart rate and put distance between them. “Not so much a mindless brute after all then,” she said coldly. A psyche rooted in animal instinct wouldn’t have had that acuity.
He rose and closed the distance between them, Dahlia could feel her heart beating in her ears and her body reacting how close he was to her. Gods, she wanted to have him again. Reason, caution were pushed away as he grabbed her.
“Be careful what you promise. I knew that wasn’t my voice,” he growled in her ear. “And I like it when you talk down to me.” The aggression in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. He crouched down in front of her until her head was just barely above his.
“It makes me want to fuck you,” he scooped her up and pressed her body against his. “To see you break like an animal under me.” She threw her arms around his neck as he pressed his lips painfully against hers. She could feel him harden as she pushed her hips against him.
He took her to the bed and dropped her there. He pulled off her clothes then pushed a hand the size of her head against her chest, pinning her back down against the bed. The fabric of his clothes rubbed against her vulnerable skin as he climbed on top of her.
He held her down as he moved his hand down her stomach, between her legs. She suppressed a whimper as his fingers brushed over her clit. He pushed two fingers inside her and she moaned. He watched her throw her head back and rock her hips as he stroked. Then he put his mouth on the sensitive skin below her hip bone and bit into her. She kicked one leg onto his shoulder and pressed him down, guiding his mouth between her thighs.
His tongue was rough as he lapped at her clit and rubbed his fingers into her g-spot. The feeling was just a tease of what she really wanted. The hunger she’d felt for him before returned as he played with her and she felt it grow until it consumed her. She arched into him, trying to move him deeper into her. Finally she thought she’d lose whatever sanity was left in her skull and she gasped out in shallow, uneven breaths, “Kenny, just fuck me.”
He pulled his fingers out of her, tugged his shirt and pants off then pressed into her, hard. Dahlia moaned in satisfaction as he filled and stretched her. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back into the bed until her back arched and her chest was thrust forward for him. He sunk his teeth into her breast, sending delicious pinpricks of sensation running down her body. He thrust into her as she egged him on with her body, eager to feel him deeper inside her. It felt sweeter, more intense with every thrust.
He released her hair and leaned back so his weight was on his knees and her could slide both hands to her hips. He rocked her hips harder against him as the new angle pushed his dick against her g-spot. She cried out and pushed her hands into the headboard to brace herself against him as he pushed into her. She felt her need growing even as she had him. It was rough, feral but she wanted it harder, needed to feel more.
She pushed harder against him and cried out frustration, pleasure, and need. He leaned back over her and pressed a hand around her throat as he penetrated her with brutal thrusts of his hips. She felt him moving inside her, his strength overpowering, her body trapped beneath him as her focus narrowed to the overwhelming sensations. She growled and bucked her hips back against him, pushing him as deep into her as he could go, pressing hard against her wall. She loved the feeling, craved it again every time he pulled back. Her body begged for satiation.
Suddenly he pulled out, leaving her frustrated and empty. Her lips pursed and she went to reach for him but he pulled her further down the bed, brought his knees down above her shoulders, and pressed his shins down against her biceps. Her eyes opened wider as he leaned her head up and brought his tip to her lips. She opened her mouth and he slid his dick between her lips. She sucked on him as he thrust in and out of her mouth. The sensation of being dominated made her grow hotter and wetter as she twisted her hips in anticipation. She moaned around his cock.
When she felt like she’d explode if she didn’t feel him inside her again he pulled out, pushed himself back, then flipped her over and pulled her hips up and back so she was on her knees. She cried out as he slammed into her, pulling her hips back as he thrust. She felt him run his hand down to rub her clit as he leaned over her, his breath hot on the back of her neck. He bit down, holding the nape of her neck in his teeth as the strokes of his cock rocked her back and forth and pushed her towards her edge. It was heaven.
Dahlia felt herself building up to a climax. She didn’t want to let go of what she was feeling yet but she couldn’t hold it back. She felt herself release as her back arched into him. He released her neck and she felt him nip along her shoulder as her body shook.
Her tension released as the climax finished and she felt him slow down. She heard his low growl in her ear, “I’m not finished.”
He pushed her head down into the bed and rode her hard. She screamed, her voice muffled in the covers, as the feel of his cock pushing inside her intensified in her now super sensitive pussy. She felt the tension inside her building again as her body begged for more. She lost her mind. Caught up in the sensations she growled, twisted, and bucked like an animal, feeling another climax building. She broke like he’d promised; panting, mindless. Her head spun as she welcomed the release that blinded her to everything else around her. She lost track of where she was or what she should be doing, it all left. There was nothing but the feeling she rode down into a sweet satiation of her need and desire.
When she felt fully present again she found herself curled up against the giant with his arm draped over her. A small part of her tensed, worried she shouldn’t be there with him but the rest of her was calm and relaxed from the intoxicating rush that had washed through her body. Concern pushed from her mind, she felt herself sink into sleep.