The Burning Blade

The Burning Blade

By Whisper

PROLOGUE:

He could feel the darkness. Always it was there, sometimes waiting like a lover of the ages, patiently biding its time until the moment when it could embrace him. Other times, it hungered, drawing him in leaving him feeling powerless and weak. How long ago had it changed? When did the darkness leave him, abandon him and walk away, while he stood silently in this void. The cold, silent and heartless darkness had been long lasting. It held no passion, no hate, no love, no emotion... nothing at all. Yes, it had been a very long lasting void indeed. The darkness he could feel now though sent shivers through him. He could feel the darkness at last, and so much more along with it. Heat, chilled breezes, stars, lights to let you appreciate the darkness when you looked away... It had been too long.

He stepped onto sand, for the first time in a very long time, and simply stood, staring at the sky, star filled and bright, wondering at how much time had changed, moulded, this place in his absence. He was a thing of the night yet. It would be a while before he became substantial enough to be seen and felt. Though, if he had indeed had a face his expression would have been a mixture of sorrow, relief and joy, with tears marking his visage. The moments stretched to minutes, which in turn stretched to hours, and eventually, many hours later he moved. A local traveller, one of the many nomads who still roamed these barren worlds, for that is what they are in a way, saw the shifting shadow and gazed up at the sky looking for a bird, for there was nothing there to cast a shadow and the night was too clear for it to be a cloud, not to mention that a cloud that small could hardly cast a shadow the size of a standing man. His eyes focused and he squinted as he guided his camel down the dune to investigate. Water and food was scarce and not often found in this wilderness, and he hardly wanted to pass what could be an opportunity to gain some much needed resources.

He arrived at the point, and after many decades on the dunes, he knew the sands and could plot the spot easily enough, and found nothing. It had gone. As the confused nomad turned circles argued silently with himself and truly shaken resumed his course west, the shadow moved on winds unseen and with footsteps unheard towards a different west, one which would wake him with its beliefs, practices and knowledge. He would wake and he would live, but this time, he would not fade into the void, for that was unacceptable to him. The worst torture imaginable and he would not allow himself to fall once again into the cursed nothingness from which he had just come. He would live.

BOOK 1: EVER PRESENT DARKNESS

CHAPTER 1

“It’s been a long week Becca,” said Richard Brent softly as he sighed and leaned back on the chair, already considering that he might indeed have to get up and go out. He rubbed one hand across his face and rubbed his cheek checking to see if there was any stubble he would need to shave.

“Maybe, but I’ll make a deal with you,” came the soft voice of Rebecca Mercy over the phone as she began her purring contralto. “You come out and I’ll treat you to the lovely sight of me all decked out in a school girl outfit.”

Richard chuckled and knew he had guessed right and that he would indeed be heading out tonight. He didn’t particularly dislike Halloween. It was just that given an option he would have rather spent the night enjoying a few beers at the local pub with a few of the regulars rather than parading around strangers’ crowded homes making polite chit chat and sipping slowly from whatever horrible tasting punch they had created this year, lying through his teeth about how lovely it was to a host who was too tipsy to see the truth and giggling too often. Well, it could be worse; he thought silently to himself, the host could be him.

“I don’t have a costume,” he said trying not to sound relieved at the revelation and failing miserably.

“Put on a suit and call yourself a lawyer Richard. Or do you not want to see me in a tiny plaid skirt?” said a mock-wounded Rebecca.

“Fine, fine, give me half an hour,” muttered Richard as he got up and headed into the shower, turning off the phone and going to get ready.

He looked at himself and thought for a moment. He wasn’t bad looking, though for the life of him he could say he was good looking either. He was decent. He chuckled at that thought as he moved to shower. Most people, upon realising some of his thoughts and fantasies would label him all sorts of things so far from decent it seemed funny. After all, how many men fantasised about being dressed up and disguised as a dumb blonde, only to be discovered in a bar, raped by all the men and kept as a pet by a woman who found him cum filled on the floor passed out, later that night?

Truly Richard Brent was a bit more than decent. He was fit for his 32 years of age and it showed. He was the smallest bit less than six feet tall and had the build of a swimmer, slim waist, broad shouldered and thick legged. His face was clean cut but not sharp and his eyes were deep blue. His service in the army of the United States of America had left him with his share of scars, the most prominent of which was on his back. A search and rescue mission that had gone bad and an interrogation squad that was not opposed to torture had left him with a curving scar from his upper right shoulder down to his waist where the skin had been slit open and salt stuffed into the wound in an attempt to get him to talk. He’d been honourably discharged since then despite the fact that he had given up nothing, for the simple reason that people didn’t know how well he might hold up if he got caught a second time with state secrets too important to risk. So he had gone back home to find his family had died a couple of years ago, and he ha d to find work or turn into a homeless bum. He picked the former and was now working in the programming department of a software development firm and living comfortably if not wealthily.

Rebecca Mercy on the other hand, was another ball game. She was stunning, in the strawberry blonde way that most women would die for. It didn’t help that she was a bigger geek than he was and had refused the advances of her employers through the years to rise steadily in the company through sheer skill, determination and hard work. Richard had held a soft spot for the woman since he had found out her father had died in the Vietnam war, her mother shortly after through grief and she had been raised in an orphanage. Perhaps normally a relative might have taken her in, but being disowned on her father’s side for marrying a ‘black woman’ and her mother’s side having no family, her chances had been slim indeed.

Now, as he drove to Rebecca’s house, he couldn’t help but wonder just how close their friendship had gotten. They were more than ‘just’ friends, they were so much more. Not lovers, but more akin to best friends. He sighed as he realised that even though he mightn’t mind risking their friendship to attempt something more, Rebecca might think less of him for the attempt and such a relationship could hardly last and would soon turn sour. He shook his head and argued the inconsistencies of that statement all the way to Rebecca’s house.

She twirled in the mirror and watched her reflection critically. It wasn’t that she was too concerned with her looks, but rather that she just wanted to make sure everything was just right. The leggy, five feet eight inches of strawberry blonde, amber eyed woman staring back at her was not exactly ugly. She cleaned up well, she knew. Better than most women these days who either doused themselves in make up or preened over themselves for hours and hours every day. She’d known Richard for nearly two years and in all that time he was the only person who seemed to truly understand her. Her frown seemed one out of sheer confusion as she stopped twirling and thought once more of the source of her anxiety that night. She wasn’t nervous. There wasn’t much that made her nervous, but the thought of her plan of action for the night didn’t sit too spectacularly with her either. She knew she had to make the first move, and she knew they could never quite be ‘fuck buddies’, but if this didn’t work she didn’t honestly think she’d recover quite that easily. She’d survive, as she always had, but a lot of her bluster for life would be eradicated.

The horn told her it was time to go and quickly grabbing her house keys, she left the house. She’d decided against make up and a purse for the simple reason that she liked the idea of a schoolgirl through and through. She did (luckily) have her clip on I.D. tag from work that stated her address and name so that any problems with the authorities would be cleared up easily enough. She slipped it all around her neck and down her blouse as she got into Richard’s car.

They got to the party relatively soon and after nearly half an hour found themselves on the balcony overlooking the acreage in the back. The mansion was large but the land it was on was vast. They seemed content to stand there, had it not been the awkwardness in the air. Both knew something was happening but neither knew what. Rebecca broke the feeling first. Things, she thought silently, had to move forward or go back to the way they were, because this awkwardness was inacceptable.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she said as she smiled at Richard and headed down a set of stairs on one side.

Richard looked around, wondering if this was really all right and working out the logistics, for a quick getaway as well as whether anyone might let the owner know and his reaction. Finding no one who was looking in on them and guessing that the owner wouldn’t mind anyway set his mind at ease.

“Richard,” said Rebecca silently, with something in her voice that made him move before he had even thought of it.

There was a clear sky tonight, and the moon gazed down at them with its half shut eye watching them walk towards the woods silently. Both their thoughts were moving a mile a second and it didn’t take long for them to reach the woods. They walked a bit deeper in silence, wondering, and thinking, weighing the factors and points in their minds. Were they doing the right thing? Was it too late to turn back? Did they want to?

Rebecca couldn’t take it any longer.

“Richard,” she said as she turned to him and they gazed at each other for a second.

Would she turn away if she found out what he wanted? Would it turn her stomach? Would there be a better time? Richard’s thoughts hammered through his head with all the delicacy of a bullet train hitting a grown man head on, going full speed. But he could feel something on the night air. Maybe it was the drink, or perhaps the sight of Rebecca standing there cloaked in moonlight, or perhaps it was something else. He hardly knew, nor for that matter, cared anymore. He dropped to his knees, his hands clasped behind his back and head bowed.

The sharp intake of breath caught him before he could second guess himself, and looking up, he realised that that was a good thing. Rebecca gazed down at him with burning eyes. They would have flashed in the night, glowed even, if she were a cat. Instead, they burnt. The small white blouse barely contained her breasts as they heaved and the white bra showed clearly through the flimsy top in the moonlight. Her mouth was open, parted slightly and her tongue unconsciously ran over her lips as she gazed at the man kneeling before her. She stepped towards him and in two steps was standing inches from his face, his neck now bent, as he stared up, back arched and sighed, barely containing the moan in his throat.

She ran her fingers delicately across his face, and then the tenderness vanished in the midst of their need. Her fingers gripped his jaw tightly, holding him in place as she bent down and kissed him hard and deep, biting his lips and drawing a small drop of blood. She moaned, feeling him shiver under her touch and stood up quickly. Panting, Richard could only hold his place as his body shivered in anticipation.

“Lick,” whispered Rebecca as she lifted a leg and placed it on his shoulder, her heels resting squarely on him, her hands roaming her own body that seemed to be consumed by need, so hot was it.

“Yes Mistress,” he murmured as he turned his head and ran his tongue over the leg, suddenly finding his throat dry and breathing heavily. He licked her calf, moved lower and then higher, over her shin and back to her calf, struggling to keep steady and lick as much as he could in his position.

“Use your hands slave,” she whispered, eliciting a moan as a response. Richard reached around, and grabbed her leg, licking it slowly as his hands held it steady. He licked higher, going over her knee, behind it, letting his tongue wander down to her ankles and feet, then back up, over and over. His pace increased as did the sight of his submission fuel their lust, and it wasn’t long before Rebecca was sitting back against a tree, toying with her breasts as he continued to lick her leg.

She could feel her body thrumming. Every touch seemed to go straight to her clitoris, making her throb and burn there. The moans escaping her lips at the sight of Richard, eyes closed and lapping at her legs were sheer passion and the sight made her open her shirt.

“Look at me,” she whispered as she slowly teasingly unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it away, taking off her bra next and slowly, ever so slowly moving it away to reveal her breasts. She was a D cup but an average to small D cup. She had full breasts, but firm ones. Not sticking out like conical pieces of cardboard, but not sagging too much either. Richard moaned and nearly fell back swooning.

“You like that do you, slave?” purred Rebecca as her legs wrapped around his neck. “Come and have a taste then,” she murmured, pulling him closer with her legs.

Richard didn’t need the help, and pounced on the opportunity, licking and suckling them, teasing the nipples out and toying with them in his mouth. His teeth grazed one nipple, his tongue flicking across it as he sucked the breast in his mouth, his hands just reaching for them, only to be caught by Rebecca. “Did I say you could use hands?” she purred contentedly as she pushed him back and stood. “You need to be punished for that. Get up and strip,” she purred as she watched him.

“Yes Mistress,” murmured Richard looking down. He knew she had expected it, baited him even, purposely not warning him, letting him reach until he was too close to deny it and then using it against him. “Sorry Mistress,” he said softly as he stood and looked down, hands behind his back, contrite at having made an error so soon.

She said nothing. She walked around him, letting her nails trail gently over his shoulders and back until she came back to stand in front of him. “Spread your legs and bend over against the tree,” she commanded, for there was no other word for it. Silently, he obeyed, doing as directed. He felt shudders coarse through his body at her tone. She was forceful enough that it made him forget everything other than his submission. The cold night air brought the first hint of cold, and was summarily dismissed as the whistle of a switch cut through the air.

Rebecca felt the air cut by the makeshift switch as the sapling whipped across his ass. She felt her clit throb even harder as she heard him gasp, but maintain his position. Another strike brought a moan from him and a quiver along his back. The third stole his breath, leaving him shaking where he stood. The pain was substantial, for the sapling was thin enough to sting fiercely but not cut skin... yet. The switch fell ten times before she finished.

“Such a good boy,” she purred again into his ear as she moulded herself over his back and gripped his hair in one hand, forcing his head back farther while her other hand reached between his legs from behind to toy with the balls hanging under him. “Does my horny slut slave need some attention?” she whispered, grabbing his cock in one hand and twisting it back between his legs just as she suddenly let go of his head, leaving him leaning against the tree for support and gasping.

“Yes Mistress,” he stammered between gasps while she crouched behind him and proceeded to rub some of his pre cum from the tip of his cock.

Her smile broadened at his reply and se quickly slipped one moist finger into his ass, eliciting a loud moan from him. His head exploded into a thousand tiny stars, and he had to ground himself back into his body to keep from cumming right there and then.

“Good,” she murmured as she jerked her fingers out, drawing a grunt from him this time. Her fingers went into his mouth and she told him to suck them clean, which he did moaning and panting all the while.

Once he was finished, she turned him around and pushed him to the ground, straddling him before he could wonder at the change in position. Her panties pushed aside, she wasted no time and planted herself on his nearly painfully hard member in seconds, moaning loudly as she did so. “Don’t you dare cum until I tell you to,” she purred as she began to ride him. Slowly at first, for he wasn’t small and she was feeling every one of his eight thick inches embedded deep inside her. Things progressed fairly quickly though and soon she was pounding herself on top of him thrusting down harder and harder, one hand squeezing her breasts while the other rubbed her clitoris and within minutes her first orgasm hit her. Clenching down around him and screaming, grinding her clit and fingers against his pelvis she paused as she recovered, and quickly turned around, keeping him inside her, the movement bringing aftershocks of pleasure through her pussy. Again the riding began, faster and faster, at an ever increasing pace the moved, until they set a rhythm.

“Please let me cum Mistress,” begged Richard between moans and gasps, desperately holding on the last edge of self control he had.

“Oooooohh,” moaned Rebecca as she moved her wet fingers to his ass getting the timing and positioning just right. “Does my little slut slave boy want to cum?” she asked as she grind her hips around his cock, shuddering and clamping around him feeling the build up of several orgasms reaching a head. “Then cum slave,” she moaned and screamed, once again lifting and falling on his cock hard and fast, but resuming just as she jabbed one finger into Richard deep and hard, searching for and quickly finding that spot inside a man to make him cum.

Unable to resist or hold on and not wanting to, Richard gasped and lost all his breath as his climax washed over him. For a long while they stayed that way, Rebecca sitting on Richard and Richard nearly on the edge of passing out from the intensity of his climax. Never had either of them felt anything like it. She had squirted all over him and his sperm was trickling out around his still hard cock inside her.

Then he stepped from the darkness.

His skin was pale, and his eyes the green of the most starling vividness. He seemed human from a distance for his skin glowed. Not like a torch, but the softest gentlest glow, a natural glow, like that of a warm summer day. His hair flowed down his back in light waves of brown, a gentle auburn that accentuate his glow and made it seem less unnatural. Should not everyone in the world have skin like that, pure and beautiful? Neither of the two on the forest floor noticed that it glowed, nor would anyone else unless they looked at it closely, and then they would also see the lines and runes carved along his body from languages long lost to our world. He stood a little over six feet tall and was built perfectly. Barely any fat covered his wide shoulder and muscular arms, his torso seemed cut from stone itself... the legs that supported it seemed an artist’s work in fluidity. Hardly surprising then, that he seemed not to walk, but to glide? As though that were not enough, there was the weight behind those eyes. Wisdom and knowledge the likes of which humans were not meant to comprehend. Perhaps the human mind can take a great deal more than it does, but that gaze said clearly what all humans know. Some things are not meant for us. They gazed into the face of something that was not human and drowned in it. He was not a vampire, he was not some alien. No, they thought silently and arrived at the same conclusion. This was but a fraction of what he was. You could sense it in the very air. The night itself seemed to come alive for him, wolves howling in the distance, owl hooting where there had been none before. He smiled then, reading their thoughts as easily as if they had spoken them aloud.

“I am Erinaes,” he spoke in a voice that seemed to be honey and cinnamon, the lushness of spring and depth of snowy winters all at once, a voice that warmed you to the tips of your toes and froze you in place just as easily. That voice you could spend an eternity listening to, and it would still be as humbling and awe inspiring as the first time you heard it.

I am Erinaes, he had said. But what that meant, was yet to come...