Liz and the Wolves of Shahala

By Rasputtin Szczepanski

Mf  Ff  1st bd best ds Mdom Fdom reluc teen tort

Introduction

       This is my first attempt at a novel.  I’m always seeking criticism, especially with grammar or story structure.  I would love to hear what you think!  Email me at Rasputtin_szczepanski@yahoo.com.

       This story is open source.   Feel free to write or draw your own stories using the characters or the lore.  Artwork or music videos, I would love to see the story grow collaboratively.  There shall never be a copyright on Shahala.

Chapter 1

       My tribes, my children, they pass down their history through songs and tales, told around a warm fire, going from one generation to the next.  These stories pass like embers from the fire into the air, changing until their light dies out and the ember floats through the air dark and unrecognizable from the hot flames that it was born. 

I alone possess the arcane knowledge of the written word.   I want the whole story told.  I want the truthful story and not some twisted legend that makes me out to be some sort of heroine, some larger than life goddess.  Truth be told, I don’t mind those stories so much, it feeds the ego but I think this version of my story is important as well though.  This isn’t to ensure my name survives through the ages.  I know it already will.  This isn’t to proclaim my glory.  The only glory is the peace and harmony that resulted from my rise to power.  This is for the girl out there who thinks she’s worthless, for the girl that thinks she will never find love.  This is for that one girl who was as I was, hopeless and alone.  I hope that someday that girl reads it and thinks, “If the great Elizabeth of the Wolves could do that, then perhaps I can too.”  So this is my autobiography.

       Waji mjassaik.  Way back, when I was a young teen, I was not only just Elizabeth, I was just Liz.   I was named after my Mother, the first Elizabeth Hall.  I just called her Mom.  We helped differentiate the two of us by referring to Mom as Beth and me as Liz.  Mom was awesome.  She was smart, witty and a loving mother.  Her love was archeology, history and horrible English comedy.  She had graduated with honors from the Naval Academy, drove around big warships for awhile, got out, got her Masters in archeology and started travelling the world digging up the past.  She met my father on a dig in Thailand.  She got pregnant and had my sister Claire.  They decided that digging temples out of the mud in Thailand was no place for a baby and settled in Maine.  My father went into insurance and my mom managed to get a job with the State government, a job in which she basically ensured that new construction sites were not digging up old Indian burial grounds.  Then she got pregnant with me.

       My sister Claire, who is five years older than me, remembers our father but I don’t, because he left before I was born.  Mom doesn’t talk about it much but Claire has been able to get out of her that she caught him cheating and then one day, he left divorce papers on her bed and disappeared.  Claire thinks he went back to Thailand and says that sometimes Mom will get money in the mail, although she says it’s never enough to pay how much he owes in child support.  Just enough to clear his conscience perhaps.

       I never consciously missed him.  How could I?  I never even knew him.  I don’t think I ever wanted a father or recognized that it was a missing component in my life.  Subconsciously, that’s another matter.

       When I was a teenager, Mom bought this really old house in Portland, Maine.  It was over 200 years old and sat at the top of Munjoy Hill on the Eastern part of the city.  It overlooked the bay and the old fort that resided out in the middle of the bay.  It looked like a plain old house to me but Mom was thrilled with it.  She spent her weekends fixing it up and then when it was refurbished she moved us in.  Neither Clair nor I were thrilled.  Clair had already graduated high school but I was moved to an entirely new school, from Augusta to the more urban Portland (as urban as it comes in Maine.)  To escape, Clair joined the Navy, leaving me and Mom alone in that big creepy old house.

       I was also alone at school.  She at least waited until summer to move us in but I was in a school where I didn’t know anyone.  I wasn’t only the new kid, I was also awkward.  I wore thick glasses and didn’t know how to dress to impress.  I had flat, bad hair and my boobs were too big, at least by teenager standards.  I didn’t play sports and I was terribly shy.  I was the classic introvert.   I was the female geek.  It’s something that never even dawned on me until I was removed from my junior high school friends, those children who I grew up from kindergarten with, my entire life as I knew it and plopped down into a new fishbowl.

       Sitting alone at lunch period during that first day is still one of the worst moments of my life.   It’s funny how what matters changes as you get older.  How I would relish time by myself now.  Then it was different.  I was mortified.  It seemed to me that everyone had friends but me.  I became acutely aware that the “Harry Potter” t-shirt I was wearing was horribly out of place.  Suitable for junior high school but definitely not for high school.  There were girls actually wearing dresses to school.   It was fall in Maine, the morning frost was appearing but they made up for the dropping temperatures with these horrible Ugh boots.   I was just grateful I didn’t wear my “Star Wars” retro shirt with Chewbacca on it.   It was one of my Mom’s favorite movies.  She introduced it to me and I fell in love with it.  I was no Princess Lei though. 

It was on that first day that I met my arch-nemesis, Kris.  Do any teenager girls get through high-school without having one?  Cruelty is bottled in the spite and hatred in teenage girls.  Her and her followers passed me in the hallway that first day and Kris delivered her first stinging blow:  “Whoa, nice shirt.” They all laughed at her as they headed to their next class.  If it wasn’t for that chance for her to belittle a stranger and raise her value in the eyes of her followers, I would have been invisible to all of them.

       Kris McDine was pretty for her age.  I take great pleasure now, knowing that she is almost 300 pounds.  Back then though she was two years away from being the captain of the cheerleading squad, hot and blonde.  In Maine, the most popular girls didn’t go into cheerleading.  Those went to girl’s lacrosse.  The cheerleaders had their own clique that provided her with the support and fed her insecurities.   They were the blue collar girls, not destined for college like the lacrosse ones.  They were the ones who dated the guys in shop, the boys who lived down in Kennedy Park, the lair of the bad boys of Portland.  Those same boys who would continue to live in Kennedy Park for the rest of their lives, unless a stint in jail removed them from the environment.

       Those first few days were rough.  It would have been worse if my Mom wasn’t there.  I think she recognized how hard it was for me.  I could see the worry on her face and I felt guilty about that.  She told me to hang in there and encouraged me to join a club.  That was the last thing I wanted to do.  I wanted to escape from school as quick as possible and hide in my room, play video games on my Xbox or my computer.  My mom worked hard to draw me out of that isolation cell, whether it was for dinner or to watch a movie.  She knew how to make me laugh and she liked a lot what I liked.  She got sucked into the same odd anime movies and series that I did.  We missed Claire but near the end of her high school years, Claire brought a lot of drama into the house with various boyfriends, most from Kennedy Park or near Dearing Park, another forgotten neighborhood, living in the shadows of the recession, surviving on hillbilly heroin.   Once Claire started dating a Somali.  I guess she thought she was rebelling.  Unfortunate for her, Mom broke that paradigm.  The Somali was the one boyfriend that Mom really got into.  He spent a lot of time talking to Mom and that was enough for Claire to dump him and move on to someone that was working his way to a life of cigarettes and welfare checks.

       Clair thrived in the Navy.  Mom was grateful that Claire was getting a new direction on life and I was appreciative of the calm that it brought into the house.  I loved my sister but I didn’t like the tension that her drama brought to her and Mom.

The house was old but it had a beautiful location on a hill overlooking the bay.  Across the street was a large park with a steep hill that I could sled when it snowed.  The hill was a hair raising ride on a sled that ended in a patch of thick bushes with thorns.  The occasional granite rock jutting out of the grass made it only for the most fearless.  The house had three bedrooms, two bathrooms and this crazy deep basement.  The stairs going down were steep and dangerous, wooden, unstable.   The walls of the basement had been covered in brick.   Mom decided that she liked it for her study and spent long periods of time down there working through her books.  I went down a few times to bug her about various things.  She was constantly refurbishing it.  She had put down a cement floor and over that a large throw rug.  No matter how much she tried to turn it into a comfortable office, large, tarantula sized spiders still roamed free throughout the room.  She had a large desk, three huge bookcases full of books, and crates of stuff pushed into corners.  Against one wall was a treadmill that was more often used as a coat rack.  She often had old artifacts scattered in drawers and on the desk, or hanging from the wall that she had dug up at sites.  Once while down there, she showed me some arrowheads that she found in the ground of the basement when she was putting in the cement.  She told me that the Native American’s had considered the hill on which our house stood as a spiritual center so there were all kinds of artifacts lying around.

An historical artifact is a hell of a thing.  You hold it in your hand and you think about the last person to hold it and to use it.  Whoever did stood on this hill, back when there were no homes, no streets, no snowplows.  What did they think about?  Was there some girl like me that had an arch-nemeses bitch that looked down on her or was getting eaten by a wolf the worst of her problems?

       She had drawings on her desk that I pointed to and asked about.  The drawings were of a hexagon with strange sharp shapes in the center that seemed to make up a flying dragon.  Its mouth was open and depending on how you looked at it, it could seem like it was breathing fire.  It was a beautiful symbol, simple but powerful.  Mom said that it was something they found here when building a parking lot at the bottom of the hill.  I said “I didn’t know Native American’s believed in dragons.”  She thought that maybe it was a Viking symbol that could have been adopted by the Native Americans.  She loved when I was interested in her work.  It was her great true love.  She showed me a copy of page of a book of handwritten notes.  She said “This is from an Elks lodge from 1910.”  She pointed at a drawing of the same hexagon symbol.  Then she hit a key on her computer, pulling the monitor out of power save and she opened some pictures.  It was from a museum somewhere.  It was the hexagon symbol.  She said “This is from Pakistan.  They think it’s about as old as the one found here.”

       “How did it get all the way from Pakistan to Maine?” I asked.

       “That is the big question.  This item is from the museum.  They think it represents something called the Cintamani…that’s a magic gem said to grant wishes.”  She smiled that goofy smile of hers and raised her eyebrows as if to suggest she was Indiana Jones.

       She pulled out a map.  “Look at this.”  On it she had marked the southern state of Maine with 10-15 red dots.  One corner dot was on Munjoy Hill. “These are all significant Native American sites.  We thought at first they were burial grounds, but they seem more spiritual in nature.  No bones, but a lot clothing, shoes, weapons.  Maybe a place they go to worship.  Connect, the dots.  What do you see?”

       I saw it immediately as she unrolled the map “It looks like the symbol.”

       Mom smiled “Creepy, huh?”

       “Definitely wild.  That has to be a coincidence though.  It’s spread too far out” I said.  “Who else knows of this?” 

       “It’s just something I’ve been working on in my spare time.  I’ll write a paper about it soon.  I just need all my ducks in a row before I pull the trigger on this.   It is too crazy to be anything more than a coincidence.”

       She put down the paper, pushed down her reading glasses and looked at me.  “Isn’t this about the time you ditch your homework and start playing video games with Eric?”

       I let my mouth drop open. “Mom! Are you listening in on me?”

       “You’re so loud, how can I not hear?”

       I was slowly making friends at school.  One of them was Eric.   Eric was one of those kids who didn’t exist in the cool kids’ camp or the geeks.  He was just a nice guy, handsome and more mature than his age.  He sat next to me in English class.  We both liked video games.   After a casual conversation about Xbox games, he invited me to play on with him online that night.  We started with one first-person-shooter and then went on to other games.  We also played World of Warcraft on the computer.  I transferred to his server and he invited me to his guild, a collection of online friends that would quest and adventure together.  His favorite game was an Ultimate Fighting game on the Xbox.  I wasn’t so much into that but I went out and bought it.  When I played with him, it was a lot of fun.  He had a way to make me laugh and before long, I was actually beating him sometimes.  This was our shared joke, our common experience.  Unfortunately for me, Eric was also someone that the dark queen Kris liked.   I think he saw Kris as out of his league, he never seemed to pick up on the hints she would throw at him.  My budding friendship with Eric turned me from invisible to visible with a target on my back for Kris.  I knew by the ice daggers coming out of her eyes that I was a threat to her and her need to bag him.

       It wasn’t long after that when Kris and her friends would call me the “fat slut.”  I wasn’t even fat but I guess being short with the big boobs and lacking the pencil frame figure that they had was enough to label me as fat.  I was a virgin so the “slut” label was even more ridiculous.  It is amazing to me now how those words were so effective in destroying any happiness I might have had.  The words would sear themselves into my consciousness, repeating themselves again and again.  When I looked in the mirror, I actually thought I was fat.  I would turn down deserts that my Mom would make, even her delicious pumpkin pie and began to run on her treadmill at night while she worked at her desk.

       I’m still convinced to this day that Eric saw nothing remotely attractive about me.  He was just impressed that a girl likes to play those types of games.  Guys develop slower than girls.  The great mating game wasn’t something that appealed to him yet.    For me, it was an entirely different story.  I was at that age where I was desperate for love, for the great romance of my life and Eric filled many fantasies that flickered through my mind both in class and at night when I lay alone in my bed.

       Mom taught me about the birds and the bees so those fantasies had some significant substance.    Sexuality was a subject she was way too comfortable with.  She had me blushing and telling her to “zip it” with some of her comments while we were hanging out.  Especially her waxing poetically on how she wasn’t “getting it hard” anymore.  That would get me to yell “Gross Mom!” and leave the room.   My real education though, the training that brought me to the level above how flowers are pollinated, was when my Mom was holed up in her basement and I explored the world of pornography on the internet in my room.  Mom explained the how and why but she never explained how good it felt.   It was an anonymous chat with a guy on line that taught me how to touch myself and orgasm.  He literally told me step by step how to play with myself.   I didn’t have a webcam but he thoroughly enjoyed teaching me that particular skill and was an online stalker until I changed my Yahoo name.    I owe him a debt of gratitude though because of how amazing it felt.  Better than anything else.  Having an orgasm made me forget all the bad things that happened at school.  I felt sexy instead of fat, in tune with the world, instead of lonely.  It was such a good feeling, that as I grew and explored, I had become very sexual, sometimes masturbating two, three times a day.  Then the man ravishing me in my fantasies got a face, and that face was Eric’s.

       I would seek out men online to chat dirty too, and I would pretend it was Eric talking to me like that.  The filthier it was, the more excited I became.  These repeated encounters was quickly molding me and corrupting me.  One man told me I was naughty and that he wanted me to bend me over his knee and spank me.  I came right then, sitting on my chair, staring at the words on the laptop, thinking of him holding me on his lap, struggling and him slapping my bare ass.  I had no idea why I was so turned on by it and it bothered me a bit.

       I’m sure Mom would not approve of my virtual sex online with men probably old enough to be my grandfather or my morbid fascination with the constant images of graphic sex that I explored.  Perhaps before we moved to Portland, she would have made it a habit to go through my computer and provide a bit of vigilance to protect me from that world.  To do so then would require that she left that basement of hers.  As time went on, she ventured up out of there less and less.  Something kept her secluded in the basement.  Work had consumed her like it had never had before.

       Then one day she put a lock on the door.   I never asked her why but I admit, it did hurt my feelings.  Sometimes when I would want to come down and just hang with her, the door would be locked.  Sometimes she answered the door, sometimes she didn’t.  If she answered it, she would always let me come down.  I asked her once why she didn’t answer the door and she said that she had her headphones on and that she didn’t hear.  I thought that maybe she was surfing porn.  I shuddered at the thought but it didn’t surprise me.

       It was one of those numerous things that struck out as odd, but unless with the foresight of future events, you don’t add up all these strange events until much later.   For example, in the dead of winter, I came home to find that Mom had a tan and her hair was a bit more bleached than I remembered it in the morning.  I called her on that one.   She calmly explained that she had gone to a tanning salon.  That was definitely odd.  Mom wasn’t someone that went to tanning salons. In fact, I recalled times when she openly mocked those that did and said it was worse than smoking cigarettes.  I didn’t even know there were tanning salons in Maine.  I told her that from now on she was going to be “Tan Mom” and she promised to make more trips so that her skin would get a nice leather like complexion going.

       There were days that she had dirt under her fingernails.  She either said she was remodeling the basement or working out in the yard.  I went out into the small, fenced backyard once and didn’t see much of any yard work.  There was a large pile of fresh dirt that was taller than I was sitting just outside the door.  There was no hole or really any logical explanation of how it got there.

       Then one day she had the hexagon symbol hanging from a leather necklace around her neck.  It was about the size of a silver dollar and made of a red stone.   I told her “that is awesome! Where did you get that one?”

       She said they had dug it up.  She was supposed to turn those in to the University of Southern Maine but she kept it.  She said she would give it to them after she finished the paper.

       Then there was one day when I came home after school.  She didn’t seem to be around.  Her door was locked and all was quiet.  She had left some bags in the kitchen.  I had peaked in.  She had bought leather pants and a jacket.  She came out of her refuge later that night.  She looked tired and I noticed gray in her hair, which I have never seen before.  She smiled when she saw me and gave me a big hug.  She held on to the hug long enough to make it awkward.

       “Mom, what’s going on?”

       “I…I just missed you,” she said, hugging tighter.

       “Are you high?”

       She laughed and released me.  “Let’s go get a pizza!”

       “Mom!  You bought leather pants?  What the hell is going on?”

       “Oh my God.  I forgot all about those!  I need a beer, bad.  Let’s go!”

       Weird, right?

Liz and the Wolves of Shahala

By Rasputtin Szczepanski

Chapter 2

The last day of my second semester, the day before Christmas vacation, was a day that was supposed to be awesome.  Instead, that day was the first day of a dark and depressing time for me.

It was sleeting outside, making the roads full of slush and salt.  I overslept because I stayed up almost to 3 AM playing World of Warcraft.  It seemed like it was worth it at the time because I got some epic loot.  It was my fourth time in that particular raid trying to get that one piece for my Druid.  I needed a ride to school and quickly or I was going to be late for my finals.  That morning, Mom wasn’t in bed, but was down in her basement and for a minute I thought that she wasn’t going to answer the door.  I banged furiously.  “What the hell!” I muttered to myself.  I looked out the window and the freezing rain was rattling the sid e of the house and running down the window.  Outside was like a blurry image of misery.  I banged harder and I could hear her running up the steps.  “Mom! Why do you lock that all the time!”  She looked flustered and surprised to see me.  She was in long pajamas and her slippers.  She had a glazed, aged look that made me think for the first time that maybe she was taking oxicotton or some other opiate based hillbilly heroin. 

       She drove me to work, in her bathrobe.  She was distracted and quiet.  As she pulled up to the school, she regained some of her awareness and kissed me on the head.  “See ya later,” she said.  “Oh, don’t forget your winter break reading assignments.  I’ll make you walk back to the school if you forget them.”  I was cranky as hell and just gave her a dirty look.  I think I was embarrassed that she had dropped me off wearing a bathrobe and literally nothing else.  She said “Bye…” and I slammed the door closed, harder than I intended to.

       I had two periods of semester finals that day.  This was the first time I’ve experienced that sort of pain.  The entire semester’s knowledge rolled into one test where we were expected to regurgitate obscure facts or equations.  With my heavy schedule on the Xbox and computer, my chances at success were low.

        After my second period and finishing my first final of the day, I stopped in the bathroom and sat down to pee.  I held my head in my hands and rubbed my temples.  I just knew that a stress headache was coming on.  Then I heard Kris walk in.  I would recognize her wicked voice anywhere.  I could even recognize the click of her heals.  She was talking about something inane.  I don’t remember what it was but it had that same tone of disgust that she used when addressing anything except her.  I thought about just sitting there until she left.  I was in no mood for a confrontation.   It was already near the end of the time between periods though.  The warning bell already went off.  I’ve been late for third period before and the results usually ended with a detention.  Mrs. Scott ruled World History with an iron fist.  I wiped with a tissue, pulled up my winter cammo cargo pants and flushed.  I walked out and headed to the door.

       She saw me in the mirror, paused with her lipstick in her hand and smiled “Very nice Elmer Fudd.  You’ve outdone yourself with your fashion statement today!”   I’ve seen the other girl with her but didn’t know her name.  She was a follower though and laughed, sneering along side of her.  I moved as quickly as I could to the exit.  I grabbed the door handle and pulled. “You’re not even going to wash your hands!  Fucking sick Liz!”

       My heart was pounding in my chest but then, suddenly, a feeling of calm came over me.  She was right.  I let go of the door handle and slowly walked over to the sink next to hers.  I stared at her as I turned on the water and started washing my hands.  I don’t think I was trying to be intimidating.  It was just my frustration level with her was capped.  I looked at her and wondered, how does someone develop into such a bitch.

       She made a horrible Elmer Fudd impression and she mixed it up with Porky Pig “Bbe…better…better wash my hands be…be..before I hunt a wabbit.”  This had her friend laughing. I thought to myself, “Who the fuck even knows who Elmer Fudd is anyway?”

She sneered. “What were you doing in there, checking again to see if you’re knocked up?  I hope not.   I don’t want you to be one of those girls that has her baby in the dumpster on prom night.  Not that you could get a date to prom.”  Kris was a sophomore but already had plans to attend her next three years in High School.

       I grabbed a paper towel and dried off my hands.  I clumped up the paper towels in my hand, clenching my fist.  I grabbed a few more towels, crumpled them up, looking down at the sink.  I held them under the water.  I held a clump of dripping, wet paper towels in my hand.  My hand balled into a tight fist, squeezing the towel into a leaking ball of paper. The trash was beyond Kris.  It would have required me to go around her or to pull off some professional basketball player shot.  I chose the latter…except I aimed for her face…and my aim was exact.

       The wet towel stuck for a second on her forehead before falling to the floor.  She looked temporarily shocked.  Her friend had wiped that stupid smile off her face.  Kris regained her composure and kicked the towel towards me.  I said with a deadpan expression, “Opps.  Sorry.”

       “You did not just do that,” she said slowly.

       I’ve always been an introvert and I avoided conflict and violence.  I hated drama but what I discovered that day was that I can think clearly in high stress situations.  I knew things were going to get ugly and that I was going to get hurt.  My adrenaline was kicked in but I was calm and quiet.

       Kris continued, “You are a fucking bitch. A fucking dead bitch!”

       I looked over to Kris’ friend and said slowly, calmly, “You are going to want to stay out of the way, go to the door.  If you tell anyone what is happening, I will come after you and hurt you, more than I’m about to hurt her.”

       Kris laughed, now with a twinge of nervousness “You fat cow, YOU are going to hurt ME! You want some?  You fucking want to go?”  She stepped forward and shoved me.

       I looked at her friend again.  “Go stand by the door and don’t let anyone in.”  The color had left her face.  I shouted, “Now! Go!”

       I’ve never been in a fight before then.  I was in a karate class once and got a yellow belt but all we did was practice moves on a mat.  I quit after I broke my toe on a punching bag.  My secret sensei was that I had been playing non-stop Ultimate Fighting Championship on the Xbox with Eric and his online friends.  Hours upon hours of wrapping my virtual self into a pretzel with Eric online.   It taught me that the key to the fight was not inflicting pain but it was to immobilize your opponent so that they could not inflict pain on you.

       Kris was afraid to start.  I could sense that she was unsure of my capabilities.  “Everybody hates you.  Nobody fucking like…”  Before she finished that sentence her head was jerked hard to her right as grabbed a first full of her hair and slapped her face as hard as I could.  I really put all I had into it.  I had to lean back to throw my weight into it, like I was hitting a grand slam.  I was surprised she took it and didn’t duck or block.  Ahhh, surprise.  My large red handprint glowed on her cheek.  I released her hair at the moment of impact and it threw her over and down onto one knee.  She was bent over in shock, her hand holding her face.  She looked up at me, anger burning in her eyes.

       “You fucking bitch!”  She screamed as she drove into me, her hands going to my hair.  She had me in a grip but I rolled back, pushed my foot into her stomach and threw her over me.  She flipped over, her feet slamming against a sink so hard that I thought the sink would break off and go shattering on the floor.  She took some of my hair with her but she landed hard enough to loosen her grip.  She coughed, momentarily stunned, giving me a chance to get up.  She turned over and lunged forward at me, this time knocking me down onto my back.  I wasn’t able to bring her with me this time.  She launched her foot at me for a hard kick.  I leaned back and brought both feet up and pushed her away from me.  Her kick landed ineffectually at my side.  She grabbed an ankle and pulled.  I kicked at her with my other foot and that other foot was wearing a heavy boot.  It took her in the chin and she fell back.  I crawled back up to my feet and got in close again. Her hands went for my hair again.  I used a foot to twist under her ankle and pull.  She fell to the ground with me on top. I laid on top and grabbed a wrist, pushing my thumb into her hand and twisting.  My knee pushed hard into her back and my other hand held down her head.  She screamed.  Her friend had run to the door and while she looked scared to death, she was actually holding the door to make sure no one came in. 

       Kris’ left hand went back, clawing at me.   She was bucking like a wild horse. I pushed her wrist hard, threatening to break it.  She screamed again.  I pushed harder and yelled at her “If you scream again, I’m going to break your wrist.”  I let go some of the pressure to give her the out.  She bucked under me and I applied the pressure again.  She was crying now “Stop it!”

       I leaned in and whispered, “Calm down.  This is where you say uncle.”

       She sobbed “You fucking bitch, you are going to fucking regret this.”  I pushed into her wrist again, feeling my power.  The power was intoxicating.  She cried out again.

       I was almost lying on top of her.  I whispered in her ear so that her little friend could not hear “Calm down...listen.  If you come at me again, I will fucking kill you.”  I pushed her wrist up to make my point “I…WILL…KILL…YOU…and it will hurt.”   I jumped up and gave a quick kick to her gut.  I scored a direct hit, the air rushed out of her and she curled up into a ball.

       I walked to the door and her friend backed against the wall.  I walked up to her and she looked ready to scream.  I put my finger to my lip.  “I have no beef with you.   Tell anyone though and you and I will talk alone.  I know where you live.”

       I walked out.  I almost ran out.  The school bell rang.  I looked at my hands. They were shaking.  I was shaking.  I wiped my arm across my face.  I was crying and I didn’t even realize it. When I walked into Mrs. Scott’s class late, everyone looked up.  Mrs. Scott gave me a disapproving look but she must have seen something in me that kept her from laying down the law.  I know my hair was disarrayed and I was probably as pale as a ghost.

       I sat down.  I felt like throwing up.  The adrenaline was in my blood and it wasn’t going away.  A mix of emotions was all running through me at once.  I hated fighting and I couldn’t believe I kicked her ass like that.  I had a sinking feeling that this was not the end of her harassment.  This thought process began to take hold of me.  I didn’t beat her; I just gave her more reason to hate me.  Even though I just bested her, I was still afraid of her.  With the anxiety came the pride that I had kicked her ass. If she was going to come after me, she will at least pause for a moment and remember the pain I had inflicted.

       There was nothing to do in class except watch a movie. I had taken that class’ final the day before.  I was grateful because I couldn’t focus on anything.  My mind replayed the encounter and I chastised myself for rising to her bait.

       Mrs. Scott had me stay behind after class.  She asked me if everything was alright.  She asked about home.  All the standard questions a concerned teacher should ask.  I gave a half smile and told her that everything was fine; I was just stressed about the finals.

       By winter, I had a few friends so lunch wasn’t so damn depressing.  That lunch I didn’t even try to eat and to make matters worse, Kris was at a table just 20 feet away.  We caught each other’s stare.  I tried to look defiant and sure of myself but I was crumbling.  Her hate was pure and I could see it had consumed her.  No one seemed to notice that unspoken showdown that was happening across the lunchroom landscape.  One good thing about being a teen, they are all self-focused.  My table of fellow geeks would have been mortified of my encounter.

       My second final was a wash.  I should have just gone home after the fight.  I couldn’t focus on anything.  My hand had stopped shaking but the horrible pit in my stomach was growing.

       After school, I waited outside under the shelter of the main doors to the school.  It was still raining, even harder than it was that morning.  I texted my Mom.  I tried calling her.  She didn’t answer the phone.   I waited for almost an hour before I walked home.  It was horrendous.  I didn’t bring a raincoat or an umbrella.  By the time I made it up to Munjoy Hill, I was soaked and chilled to the bone.  I was convinced that the day could not get worse.  I unlocked the door and stormed into the quiet and dark house.  I tried the basement door.        It was locked.  “Mom!”  I rattled the door and banged my fist against the door.  I waited and listened.  There was nothing but silence.   I went up to my room, got out of my wet clothes and put on my pajamas.  I wasn’t going anywhere in this weather and my plan was to spend the beginning of my vacation playing video games.  The thought of it helped eased my mind from the day’s horrific events.  I went back down and tried the door again.  It was still locked.  “What the fuck?” I muttered.  I knocked hard on the door again.  “Mom! Are you down there?”  There was something about old houses that made you feel like one person in an ice arena.  They were big and designed for big families.  With only two women living in one, my voice echoed as if I was in a cave. 

       I looked at the lock.  It was definitely the type that you had to lock from the inside.  She had to be down there.  I worried for a second, looking at the door, trying to stare through it.  Finally, I decided that she must be high on something down there and if she was going to enjoy herself, so was I.  “Alright, screw this,” I said out loud and then headed into the kitchen.  I poured myself a glass of Mom’s red wine in a box.  In an act of subterfuge, I used a solid, plastic cup in case she decided to come out of her lair.

       I went up to my room, locked the door and hit the power switch on the computer.  I sat down.  A more accurate description is that I slumped down in my chair, feeling all the worries of the day sink out of me into that plush pseudo-leather chair.  I sipped on the wine and watched the computer boot up.

       Raiding time in World of Warcraft wasn’t for another two hours.  Raiding was a chance for 20 other people all logged into their computers to work as a team to achieve a common goal.  I was pretty sure Eric would be on.  So I started by popping open Facebook.  I had a friend request from someone named Clark Mailhot.  I didn’t recognize the name but we had a few friends in common.  I examined his page.  It was one of the football players, a linebacker.  I clicked yes and then idly scrolled through his page.  Lots of idiotic party photos, straight out of the jock guide book.  The letter jacket, beer pong, lots of photos of girls cleavage at parties.  He was a senior and cute for a guy with a neck like the trunk of Redwood.

       He looked like an idiot but something in me stirred flipping through his photo.  It was the butterflies in my stomach, the same ones I got when I looked at online porn.   I closed down Facebook and brought up the online chat program MIRC.  Talking with strangers was always more exciting to me than just pulling up random porn.  Sometimes I did both.  Then I just surfed the adult rooms, ignoring the multiple bots and spam. 

       I got up, opened my door and listened at the top of the stairs.  No noise.   I didn’t like to hit the porn when Mom was home but I was anxious for something to make me forget my day.  I closed my door and locked it.  I sat back down and answered some of the random IMs that were popping up.  Most started with “ASL?”  Sometimes I lied but today I decided to be honest.  I was just relaxing and buying time.  When I answered honestly, most people just didn’t reply back.  Some responded with a simple “Sorry, I will only talk with you if you are older.”  I didn’t see what the big deal was.  I was more adult than a lot of the assholes online were.

       Someone named SlaveTrainer2010 popped up on my screen.    “Hello there.  Are you a bot?”

       A bot was one of those hundred programs that acted like another person.  When you chatted with them, they send you the link to some website, usually porn related.  Some were more advance Astroturf, almost having the ability to converse like a person, but still just a program.

       I typed “I’m one of the more advanced bots.  You have something against bots? Cause that’s discrimination.”    I was intrigued with his name.  This was the first time that someone’s name alone brought on the butterflies and made me squirm in my seat.

       He smiled.  At least, he smiled with an emoticon.  “: )  What brings you to this land of bots?”

       “This is where the bots hang out of course,” I typed.

       “This seems like a good place to hang out.  Not much going on.  Are you new to  MIRC?”

       “I am.  I can’t believe how many rooms there are.”

       “Indeed.   ASL?”

       I sipped my wine and thought about my choice.  Lie or truth, or perhaps a mix.  I typed in the truth.

       He responded “mmmmmm.  55/M/Florida.  What high school do you go to?”

       “lol.  Why do you say that?”

       “Say what?”

       “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?”

       “You sound delicious.  Do you have a picture?”

       “No, do you?”

       “Not one picture? Do you have Skype? I have a webcam if you want to see me.”

       “I just met you, I’m not sharing my photo with you,” I typed.  I lied though.  I was enjoying the exchange.

       “What’s your skype handle?” he asked.

       I gave it to him and shortly after he popped up on Skype, asking to add me as a friend.  I clicked yes and he then called me.

       I had placed a strip of duct tape over my webcam so I clicked yes.  His image popped up.  He was an older gentleman with thick grey hair.  Seeing him was exciting.  It was a dark and grainy photo but he was handsome and rugged.  I ran my hand down my leg subconsicously, rubbing up and down.  He typed “Can you see me?”

       “Yes.”

       “Awww, I can’t see you.  That’s not fair,” he typed.

       “My webcam doesn’t work.”

       “Do you like older guys?”

       “I guess so.  Not sure what sort of guys I like yet.  I think I like all types.”

       “Do you have a boyfriend?”

       “Not right now.  Working on it though.”

       “Virgin?”

       “You are making me blush,” I typed honestly.

       “It’s ok, you can tell me.  It’s the internet, it’s anonymous.  I won’t tell anyone.”

       “Yes,” I answered truthfully.

       “But you don’t want to be?”

       “I wouldn’t mind having sex.  Just haven’t met the right person. How about you?  Are you a virgin?”

       I could see him laughing and I could hear him when he typed.  I took out some earphones and plugged them in just in case Mom made an appearance.  He typed “No, little one.  I want to see you, I want you to plug your webcam. ”

       My laptop had a webcam but I never used it.  Enough guys had asked to see me as I masturbated that I entertained the thought of removing the tape but I never did.  I was fine just talking on a microphone with my gaming friends, I really didn’t need the webcam.  Still, the thought was exciting.  Having the webcam sitting there at my desk was exciting.   Knowing that I could use it, expose myself…that made my skin tingle.  I figured that I could just show my neck down and I would be safe…or maybe, what are the odds that he would be able to drive up and recognize me.  I typed “What does your name mean?”  As he answered I slowly removed the tape.

       He answered “It means I train women how to be slaves.  Does that interest you?”

       I turned on my webcam and realized I was breathing a bit harder.  I saw him smile.  I pushed the webcam back a bit so that it could see me entirely and I tried to look composed.  He typed “You are beautiful.”

       I blushed and now he could see it.  I typed, “Thank you.  What do you mean, ‘you train slaves’?”

       “I find girls that submit to me.  I break their will and train them. ”

       He watched me as I read that then typed. “Unbutton your shirt.”

       Normally I made guys work a bit when they asked these things on line or I lied about it.  The fact that he could see me was something new and I was getting so excited I was shaking.  I couldn’t lie.  If I removed my shirt, he would see me naked.  I paused, considering it.  I looked at my door, makings sure it was locked.  I listened to the silence of the house, seeking out any traces of my mother’s movement.  Then I unbuttoned my shirt.  I wasn’t wearing anything underneath but I kept my breast covered.  He typed “Good girl.”  I don’t know why but I felt my arousal jump even higher and I was happy that I pleased him.

       “Show me your tit.”  I pushed the soft fabric over uncovering by breast.  I could see he was pleased.  He typed “rub you nipple between your finger and thumb.  Pinch it a little.”  I followed his directions and felt the nipple expand.  “Do you like doing that for me?”

       I typed “yes.”

       “Can you talk in your microphone?” he asked.

       “No, my Mom is home,” I typed.

       “Ok.  Now take off your pants.”

       I stood up and pulled them down, leaving them around my ankles in case I needed to pull them up.   “Good girl.  I’m adding you as a friend.”

       I clicked ‘yes’ to his request.  I glanced at him in the monitor.  He was studying me intently.  His hand was moving under his desk and I supposed that he was rubbing his cock.  This was something that drove me into these virtual rooms, knowing that their cocks were swelling up, sticking up because of me…of just knowing that I was touching myself, or in this case, by just looking at my bare breast.  I could feel their desire over the cold reaches of the internet.  At school, I was a reject, but somehow over the internet I became hot.  Men desired me.

       He spoke instead of typing “are you wearing panties?”

       I nodded.  I couldn’t even speak.  He voice stunned me like an electric eel shocking a fish.  I floated to the surface upside down in my own excitement.

       “Take them off,” he ordered.

       I pushed them down so that they were around my ankles.

       “Spread you legs.”

       I spread them as much as I could.  My pajama bottoms and panties bound my feet.  I glanced nervously at the door and slipped a foot out so I could spread my legs farther.  My finger went to my pussy without him telling me.  I was soaked.  My finger slipped between my lips and a hot, wetness instantly covered my finger.  I gasped.

       “Spread your legs wider for me,” he ordered.  I did and began to slide my finger up and down my slit, running over the hood that was barely containing my swelling clit.

       “Take the camera and show me your cunt.”  

       I was starting to hunch over, breathing hard, my bare breast rising and falling as I struggled to breath.   I switched hands.   I grabbed the camera and angled it down so that it focused on the action between my legs.

       “Mmmm, good girl.  Why do you think you are so turned on?  You look ready to cum and we just started?”

       I didn’t answer.  I looked at my computer screen and could see I had an instant message coming in on Facebook.  Facebook flashed on and off at me from the bottom of the screen.    I have the personality that I can’t let anything like that lie, even when in the mist of sexual ecstasy.   I clicked on Facebook.  It was Clark, trying to talk to me.  I quickly minimized it.

       He was still staring at me, stroking his cock.  He raised his eyebrows, “hmm?”  He asked again.  “Why do you think you’re such a mess?”

       I tried to speak but just moaned weakly.  He smiled.  “It’s because you like to be controlled.  Is this the first time you exposed yourself like this?”  I nodded.  “Good girl.  You like me seeing you like this, using you.”

       I pushed down on my clit and cried out.  My legs shot out and quivered as I came.  My eyelids fluttered and my eyeballs rolled back.   I could hear him coming.  I slouched in my chair, my finger still pushed hard into my slit, still feeling the orgasm shake inside of me.  I recovered slowly.  He was smiling at me as I tried to catch my breath.  On the screen, the minimized window still blinked with Carl’s message.

       I clicked on it.  “Hi Liz, what are you up to,” it said.

       I wiped my finger off on my belly and typed “just hanging out.  Getting ready to play some video games.”

       He didn’t respond right away so I went back to SlaveTrainer2010.  He was still watching me.  I typed, “I have to go.”

       He said “ok little one.  I will talk to you later.”  He turned off the connection.  I put the tape back over the webcam, a little concerned about what I just did.  It felt so good though.  My body was still tingling.  Still, I had just masturbated in front of a total stranger.  My shame still burned my cheeks but seeing Clark IMing me was giving me butterflies again.

       I clicked back to Facebook.  Clark responded, “Cool.  I heard you kicked Kris’ ass today.”

       I sighed.  Apparently her little friend called my bluff and didn’t keep her mouth shut.  I typed “I wouldn’t say that.”

       He responded, “Modest. I like that!  I never even knew who you were until I heard about the smack down you put on Kris.  That’s hot!”  He added a little smiley face.

       “Hot?” I replied and then put my panties and pj bottoms back on.

       “LOL.  I just never saw you before.  You’re hot.”

       I added a little blushing face and I chuckled to myself.  I buttoned up my pajama top. 

       “We should hang out sometime,” he typed.

       I paused, a little shocked that someone this popular was saying these things to me.  “Sure!” I responded.

       “Cool.  I’ll let you know.  I have a thing going on tonight but maybe tomorrow night you want to get some pizza or something.”

       “That sounds good.”  I added another smiley face then deleted it.  I thought to myself, “Didn’t they say not to seem to eager or easy to get?”

       “Ok, l8r,” and he was offline.

       At that point, I was feeling pretty good.  My day had gone from horrible to awesome.  I just got asked out on a date by a senior.  All my online exploration was leading me to really want to get hot and heavy with a guy.  I really wanted to do it.  I thought, maybe it won’t be long. 

       After a night of gaming, I went to bed and masturbated under the sheets thinking about Clark between my legs, pounding me hard like in all the videos I’ve seen.

26 Liz and the Wolves of Shahala

By Rasputtin Szczepanski

Chapter 3

       I woke up naturally, on my own, toasty in my cocoon of quilts and sheets.  I stretched and looked at the sunlight beaming through my window.  The window was covered in frost around the frame.  It was vacation!

       I thought about the evening before.  I ran my hands up my inner thighs, feeling the soft cotton pajamas.  I loved my body, as long as I wasn’t looking at it in a mirror.  I thought about how I exposed myself on a webcam to a stranger.  I thought about how he pleasured himself looking at my body.  I slipped my hands under my pants and panties.  The warmth enveloped my fingers.  My fingers pushed through my soft patch of pubic hair and slipped between my lips.

       I slowly rubbed myself, twisting and stretching under the sheets, one hand squeezing my breast through the top.  I thought about what he said about training slaves.  I thought about what it might be like to be a slave.  I wondered how he would break my will.  I replayed the conversation in my head until I came.

       After recovering, I got up and headed downstairs for a bowl of cereal.  I sat down, turned on some cartoons and ate, still groggy from sleep.  After finishing breakfast I realized that there was no coffee made.  My mother was always up before me and she always made coffee. I was now officially worried.  I put my bowl in the sink and went to the basement door.  I knocked.  “Mom?”

       The silence made me think that she fell down those steep, crappy wooden steps that had no hand rail.  I banged harder. “Mom!” I yelled.  I looked at the lock again.  It had a small hole in the front.  I went and found a wire hanger, bent it straight and pushed it through the hole.  I pushed until I felt the lock pop open.  I opened the door.  The light was still on down stairs?  I yelled down again, “Mom?”

       I slowly walked down, expecting to see something horrific.  Perhaps my mom lying crooked at the base of the stairs, her neck snapped.  The room was empty.  I got to the bottom of the stairs and paused, looking back up.  She wasn’t in the room.  I was momentarily relieved.  She must have gone out.  Maybe she finally got laid like she was always complaining about.  I went back upstairs.  I turned off the light and closed the door.  I checked my phone to see if she called.  Sometimes I had lowered the ringer and didn’t hear when I had calls.  There was nothing.

       I went back up to my room and sat down, satisfied that she was probably going to wake up in some guys bed with a hangover and realize with alarm that she didn’t tell her daughter.  I closed my door and sat down to my computer.  I powered it on and waited for it to load.  I checked my email and I checked Facebook.  I opened Skype.  SlaveTrainer2010 was online.  I began to get butterflies and I cursed myself for being such a sexual deviant.

       He IMed me.  “Good morning little one.”

       I typed back, “Good morning, how are you?”

       He returned, “Good.  What time is it there?”

       I typed in “8:30 p.m.  What time is it for you?”

       He answered “Same.”

       “Where do you live again?” I asked.

       “Florida.”

       “What do you do?”

       “Retired.  Play golf, “he typed.

       “and play on the computer : ),” I typed.

       “That too : ) “

       “Can I see my girl on the webcam?” he asked.

       I smiled.  “I look awful.”

       “I doubt that.”

       I took off the tape covering the webcam and called him.  He answered and soon we were talking to each other.  “See, you look ravishing,” he said.

       I put on my headset and laughed, “right!”  I felt more comfortable talking directly into the microphone now.

       “Did you enjoy last night?”

       I blushed and looked down at my feet.  His eyes were boring down on me. “I guess so.”

       “Have you ever done that before?” he asked.

       “Done what?”

       “Touched yourself on the webcam like that for another man?”  I shook my head.  “But you liked it.  Do you like following orders?”

       I whispered, “I guess.”

       “Do you like doing what you are told?”

       I could not explain why I was so turned on.  I could barely speak.  “I don’t know.”

       “It’s ok if you do. It means you are submissive.  A lot of girls are.”

       “What’s that?” I asked.

       “Some people are sexually submissive, they like to serve others,” he explained.  “Then some people are dominant, they like to control others.”

       “Are you dominant?”

       “I am.  I’m what is called a master.  I enjoy BDSM.  Do you know what that is?”

       “No.”

       “It stands for bondage and sadomachism.  Many people enjoy it.  Can you imagine yourself tied up, unable to move, naked so that I can do whatever I want to you?”

       “No,” I whispered.  I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation.

       “Unbutton your shirt again.”

       My hand was shaking but I quickly unbuttoned my shirt.

       “Good girl.  Now feel your tit.  It’s ok.  Put your hand up and feel the nipple.  Feel how hard it is.  It’s swollen, right?”

       I nodded.  My nipple was stiff, swollen and covered in bumps.

       “Think about how if your hands were tied behind your chair and your legs were tied to the bottom of the chair you wouldn’t be able to move, would you?”

       I could feel my heart beating wildly under my hand.  What was he doing to me?

       “I’m sending you a photo, take a look at it.”  I saw the photo load.  It was a nude woman who was tied to a chair.  In her mouth was a bright red ball gag connected to a leather strap around her head.  “Do you see it?  Good.  Now imagine that gag in your mouth so you couldn’t yell for help.  Now put your hands down between your legs…  Good, put your fingers in your cunt.  Is it there?  How wet are you?”

       I was breathing too hard.  I couldn’t answer.  I was wet and almost ready to have an orgasm.  I was offended by his words but it was stirring the butterflies in my stomach. My face felt hot.  He studied his screen, looking at me.  “Feel how wet you are?  How excited you are?  That is because you are naturally submissive and your body is preparing you for a cock.  Do you want to cum?”

       I nodded slowly.  He said “Ask me for permission to cum.”

       I rubbed my finger up and down.  I was so close.  I whispered, not looking at the camera, I was embarrassed that I had come to this.  “Can I cum?”

       “Good girl. You may cum.”

       He watched me as I leaned forward and moaned loudly into the microphone.

       I sat there, wracked by several strong spasms.  I kept my finger pressed in against me as my heart beat slowed and I calmed down.  I realized that my shirt had fallen open, revealing one bare breast.  He waited almost a minute before he said “did you like that?”

       I took a deep breath in and honestly said, “yes.”

       He said, “Liz, I’m a master and you are a submissive.  You need to start referring me as a sir. Understand?”

       “Yes…sir.”

       “Any master or mistress you should refer to as sir or miss or ma’am.  If they own you, then you will refer them as master or mistress.”

       “If they own me?”

       “You are submissive.  Eventually a master or mistress will claim you and train you to serve them.”

       “How come I’ve never heard of this?  I never met a master or a mistress.”

       “It’s because you are young.  But now that you are discovering yourself, it won’t be long until someone finds you.”

       There was a moment of silence as he let that sink in.  “What are you up to today?  Vacation yet?” he asked.

       I took a deep breath in and released my finger that was still embedded deep between my lips.  I wiped it on my pants and said “Yes, thank God.  I guess I’m just going to hang out…oh, maybe go on a date tonight.”

       “With someone from school?”

       “Yes, a football player.”

       “Ever been out with him before?” he asked.

       “No, this is the first time.”

       “What will you wear?”

       “Oh God,  I don’t know.  I don’t have anything, ” I said.

       “You want to look sexy.  Do you have a mini-skirt?”

       “I have a couple of skirts.  None that are a mini.”

       “What’s the shortest one you have?”

       “I don’t know.”

       “Get it and let me see.”

       I got up and dug through my drawers until I found a black one that went to my knees.  I held it up in front of the webcam.

       “Hold it next to you.  That’s the shortest?”

       “Yeah.”

       With a stern voice, he corrected me, “It’s ‘yes, sir.’”

       “Sorry,” I whispered.

       “It’s ‘Sorry sir.’ You need to buy some shorter skirts.”

       “I live in Maine,  pretty soon I won’t be able to wear any skirts without a pair of long johns underneath.”

       “You will still need them in the summer.  How about high heels?”

       “That I don’t have.  I hate high heels.  They are so uncomfortable.”

       “I thought you said you never wore them.”

       “I said I don’t have any. I bought some for a dance in junior high once.”

       “You should buy some more.  The higher the heels the better.  They make a girl look sexy.  So be sure to buy those too.  What are you going to wear on top? Any belly or tube tops?”

       “I have a few belly shirts but I don’t think it goes with this skirt.”

       “Ok, what will you wear?”

       I grunted and dug through the drawers.  I found a grey shirt that matched the skirt.  I held it up to myself and modeled it for the camera.

       “We definitely need to work on you.  Don’t wear a bra or panties.”

       “What! Why?”

       “Just don’t.  Trust me.  It’s an order.”

       “It seems dirty.  You will be able to see my nipples through the shirt.”

       “Guys like that.  It will let him know if you like him.  Will you suck his cock?”

       I laughed and looked shocked, “Oh my God! You are so crazy.”

       “Guys like it, a lot.  Have you ever sucked a cock before?”  He was serious.

       “No!”

       “You should try it.  It’s very easy and he really will enjoy it.  Just make sure to take it deep down your throat and swallow it all when he cums in your mouth.”

       I was blushing so hard that I felt like I had a high fever.  I was giggling nervously and shook my head.  “I better go.”

       He smiled.  “Ok.  Talk to me after the date.  Let me know how it went.”

       “I will.”  We said our goodbyes and logged off. 

       I was exhausted after that and collapsed back down on my bed thinking about how crazy that conversation was.  I feel asleep thinking about how I probably shouldn’t talk to him anymore.  He was obviously a bad man and for some reason, that excited me.

Normally, when I take a nap right after I wake up, I have the most vivid dreams or at least those are the dreams that I remember the most.  After I fell asleep I had one of those vivid dreams.  In this dream that I had after my mind blowing orgasm with the stranger on the webcam, I had lost my mom’s dragon charm that she wore around her neck.  The feeling of loss was horrible.  I was panicked.  I looked all over the house.  I went to the basement and the lights were out.  I had checked everywhere.  They had to be down in that basement so that is the last door that I opened. I peered into the darkness.  Down at the bottom of the stairs there was two red eyes of some creature looking up at me.  I woke up terrified and grateful that it was just a dream, I still had my charm and I was still on vacation.

       I was tempted to get back online and talk to SlaveTrainer2010 but I figured I had my share of sexual decadence for the day.  I went downstairs to make something for lunch.  I looked down into the basement once and yelled out to the house “Mom!”  She still wasn’t home.

       Again after lunch, I ended up online.  I closed out Skype so I wouldn’t get distracted and played some World of Warcraft.  Carl texted me and set up a time to come pick me up.  I lost all focus on the game and spent the rest of the afternoon going through my pitiful collection of clothing.  SlaveTrainer2010’s recommendations kept coming back to me and in the end, I went with the black skirt, grey shirt and no panties or bra.  I looked in the mirror.  I couldn’t see my nipples unless I really looked hard.  No bra did keep the breast as a whole from ballooning out.  Not wearing panties felt weird, feeling the cool breeze between my legs.  Dressing like that was exciting me.  I reminded myself that I needed to stop thinking about sex or the high beams would come on.

       The skirt was covered in wrinkles.  It looked like the hide of an elephant, a black, old elephant.  I couldn’t even remember the last time I wore it.  Apparently, on the floor of my closet was not the proper place to store skirts.

       Finding the ironing board was no easy task either.  I wasn’t even sure we had one.  After much exploration throughout the multitude of closets in the house, I found the ironing board and iron.  I had seen people iron before.  It looked relatively easy.  I examined the iron closely and deducted that I needed to fill it with water to create the steam.  I did so, plugged it in and turned it on.

       I laid the soft fabric of the skirt across the ironing board and after letting the iron heat up, pressed it down the fabric.  When I lifted the iron up, the fabric came up with it, melted to the bottom of the iron.

       “FUCK!”

I found another skirt, this one a little longer.  I didn’t dare try to iron it so I accepted the fact that it would be wrinkled.  I really wished that I could just wear furs like in old fantasy stories.

       I spent at least an hour messing with my hair in the bathroom.  No matter how I teased it or put hairspray on it, it wasn’t working.  I felt like crying.  I put on lipstick which I never did.  It felt weird on my lips and I looked awful when I saw myself in the mirror, so I wiped the lipstick off.

Then, looking at my pitiful self in the mirror I felt that the shirt was showing too much of my belly that I had.  There was a reason I wore oversized t-shirts. 

       The date, if you can call it that, started off well.  He picked me up in his parent’s car.  He took me for some pizza and then talked about nothing but himself.  Still, I felt a little hero worship.  I was getting to sit at the same table as a senior on the football team.  His life was so foreign to me that it was interesting to listen to.  The only time he asked me anything was when he dwelled into my fight with Kris.  He was very interested in the details of that confrontation and his grin was as wide as the plate I was eating my pizza on.

       He didn’t offer to pay for my pizza which I thought was odd but I had never been on a date before.  I thought, maybe it wasn’t a date; maybe he just wanted to get the details of the fight.  He asked me what I wanted to do next.  I had no idea so he suggested that I come over to his place and we could play some pool down in his basement.

       Chris’ father was home watching golf in the living room.  He glanced up and looked at me without saying anything.  It was a leering, bored sort of look that seemed to say “hmmm, look what my boy caught.”  I saw a quick glimpse of his mother talking animatedly on a cellphone in the kitchen.  He led me down to his man-cave basement, locking the door behind us.   When he turned that lock, and I realized that I was alone with him, I could feel my nipples brushing against the soft fabric of my blouse.  I knew they were swelling and visible on my shirt and that was confirmed when I got to the middle of the room. I had turned and his eyes were looking directly down at them.  I covered my chest with my arms self consciously.  He frowned and began to scour the room for the remote control.

In the middle of the room there was a large L shaped couch facing a big HD TV on the wall.  Chris found the remote under a sofa cushion and he used it to turn on a music channel.  Rap seemed to be his thing.  As he messed with it, I walked over to the pool table.  “I’ve never played pool before.  This is cool.”

       He had walked up behind me.  I turned around and he was close, towering a whole foot above me.  “Boy, I wish I knew how hot you were earlier.”

       I looked up, not certain what to say.  He leaned in and kissed me on the lips.  I didn’t know what to do.  My first kiss!  I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my lips up to his.  I melted, my inner voice cheering “first kiss!” in my head.  He pulled me tight against him; his tongue was pushing its way into my mouth.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was kissing a senior!  He started pulling me back towards the couch, his lips locked on mine and fell back on it with me on top of him.  I could feel something hard in his pants pushing against my side.  His cock! I was making his cock hard!

        My dress was riding up and I could feel my pussy being exposed.  I reached down, trying to pull my skirt back down.  It was happening so fast.  I wasn’t supposed to do this on a first date!  I brought my hand back up towards his face but it brushed the hard cock pushing out of the jeans so I stopped and laid my hand directly on it.  It felt warm.  He kissed me hard and turned us over so I was on my side trapped between him and the cushion.  I continued to rub the outline of his cock and he stopped kissing and leaned in to kiss my neck.  He whispered “that feels so fucking good.”

       His hand was down around mine.  He undid his belt and unzipped his pants.  He jerked around on the couch, laying back down on his back, pulling his pants down enough to let his cock out.  It sprung straight up out of some New England Patriot branded boxer shorts.  He grabbed my hand and put it on his cock and before I knew it I was grasping it.  I could believe it.  He tried kissing me but I moved my head was down to look at it.  I had to see it.  This cock was real.  I loved its warmth in my hand.  I rubbed my hand up and down it and I heard him moan.  I adjusted my position on the couch to get a better look at it.   I lightly stroked it up and down and studied it.  I still couldn’t believe I had a real cock in my hands.  It was just like in all the photos and videos but hot, living and in my hand.

The words of SlaveTrainer2010 echoed in my head.  “Guys liked their cocks sucked.”   It was also better than getting pregnant.  I suspected he didn’t have a condom.  This was my first date. I wasn’t supposed to be “easy” and put out on a first date.  I couldn’t remember where I heard that and didn’t even know if it was true or not.  I wanted to experience it, to do what they did in all those photos and videos I watched on my computer.  I pushed myself down, still grasping it, jerking it.  He was groaning and I wasn’t sure if I was hurting him or not.  I got my head near to it and looked at it.  There was a bit of clear liquid on the tip.  It was a fascinating shape, kind of like some weird mushroom.  I jerked my hand to the top then leaned in to lick the side.  I jerked my hand down.  He was squirming on the couch.  I leaned forward so that my head was on his belly looking down at the cock.  I took the tip in my mouth and sucked on the pearl of juice at the top.  It was slimy and didn’t taste like much.  I jerked the cock up and down, keeping the head in my mouth.  I pushed my head down, seeing how much of the cock I could push into my mouth.  He jerked up and began to try and hump my mouth.  He was squirming and moaning so that I couldn’t tell if I was doing it right.  I held his cock in my fist and now wet with my spit, it slid in and out of my hand.  I tried my best to keep my teeth off of it.  Suddenly I thought I hurt him because he moaned so loud that I thought his mom would hear from upstairs.  I loosened my grip but suddenly a jet of slimy jism spurted out of his cock across my tongue and the back of my throat.  I began to jerk again and I could feel it squirt again in my mouth.  I tried to do it like I saw in the movies, except I swallowed it like SlaveTrainer2010 said instead of jerking it all over my face.  I held it tight and as deep in my mouth as possible without gagging.  It was leaking semen now and I swallowed it all.  I moved my hand up and he tensed up and uttered a cry.  He pushed my head off of him, his body tensing.  I looked at the cock.  It was now between a purple and red color.  I held on to it at the base.  Cum still leaked out the top.  I leaned back and could see his stomach where his shirt pushed up, rapidly rising and falling as he caught his breath.  He had a bit of a belly.  I thought, “that is what all that beer I see you drinking in the photos on Facebook is doing to you.”

I crawled back up and curled up in his arms.  He was recovered.  “That felt so fucking good.” 

I smiled and rested my head on his shoulder.  “You’re welcome,” I said.

“And Kris said you were a geek. You are definitely no geek.  That was so fucking good.  You are so hot I cannot believe I’ve never noticed you before.”

He couldn’t see me because my face was facing away from his, but I frowned at the mention of Kris’ name.  “Does Kris talk about me a lot?” I asked.

“Not a lot but she did.  Now that you kicked her ass she’s obsessed with you.  I’m always like ‘shut up already’”

“Do other people know about the fight?”

“Fuck yeah.  Her story is a lot different than the one that is going around.”

“What’s her story?”

“That she taught you a lesson and you ran off crying.”

I scoffed.  He said, “Don’t worry.  She’s fucking hot and people kiss her ass because of it but no one believes her.”

We didn’t hang out too much after that.  He seemed distant and focused on something else, so he took me home.  His parting words were “Your house is creepy.  I’ll talk to you tonight online.”

Mom was still not home.  It was quiet except for the creaking caused by the wind outside.  He was right.  The house was creepy.  I sighed and tried calling her on my cellphone.  I only got her answering machine.  A growing knot of fear was growing inside my gut.  I tried to place it out of my mind, telling myself that she must have had signed up for some weekend job and then her battery died or something.  I was really going to let her have it when she came home.

I turned on my computer and stripped down and climbed just a long t-shirt.  I slouched down into my chair and waited.  I was still thinking about my date.  I was still excited about it and the thought of talking to SlaveTrainer2010 if he was on.

My excitement rose as I saw his name highlighted on the screen.  I spread my legs, slipped my hand under my shirt and pushed my finger slowly into my slit.  I was warm and wet.  I sighed in pleasure and began to masturbate.  I double clicked his name to call him.  He answered and requested webcam.  I removed my fingers from my wet pussy and turned on my webcam.

“Hello little one,” he said.

“Hi,” I said, still shy.

“It’s ‘hi, sir,” he corrected.

“Sorry.  Hi, sir.”

“Good girl,” he said slowly.  “If you are going to call me, I want you to be naked when you do.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s obvious what you want.  I want you to be more aware of your needs and your body.  Don’t call me unless you are naked, understand?”

“Yes…Yes sir.”

“Good girl.  Now get naked.”

I pulled off my shirt and threw it to the floor.  He admired me through the camera.

“How did your date go?  Did you go already?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s ‘yes sir’.   I’m going to start punishing you each time you forget to say that, understood.”

I thought, Punish me! What the hell! but said “yes, sir,” meekly.  I could feel my nipples swell when he said that. I liked that he was taking charge.  I was shivering in excitement.

“Did you suck his cock like I told you to?”

“Yes sir.”

“Did you swallow his cum?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.  Then what did you do?”

“He took me home.  That was the end of the date I guess,” I said.

“He didn’t fuck you?”

I whispered, “No sir.”

“Did he feel your tits or cunt?”

“No sir.”  I was struggling inside.  I was offended that he was talking to me like this but for a reason I still didn’t understand, I was excited.

“So he just used your mouth and when he got what he wanted he sent you home.”

I didn’t know how to answer but I did know that his words were having a peculiar effect on me.  I knew that if I touched myself, I would cum almost instantly.  I squirmed on the chair, looking down, my face flushed.

“Did he just use your mouth?” he asked again.

“I guess so.”

“Pinch your nipple.”

“What?”

“Pinch your nipples.  Both of them,” he repeated.

I put up my fingers and pinched them.  He said sternly, “Harder.  No, harder.  Twist them.”  I winced as I pulled them.  “I will find harder punishments.  It’s ‘I guess so SIR.’”

It hurt a little but the excitement and pleasure buried it.   I looked down and saw Chris paging me on Facebook. 

“Pull them out more.  Ok, let go.”  He looked at me.  “What’s wrong?”

“He’s trying to page me.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Well…Chris, the guy I went out with,” I said.

“Answer him…leave me up though.  Tell me what you are saying.”

I clicked on Chris.  His message said, “Hi!  You still up?”

“Ok…this is weird,” I thought.  I typed “Yeah, what are you doing?”  I then repeated what I wrote out loud to SlaveTrainer. 

“Bored,” he answered.  “Thinking about how hot you are : ) “

I read Chris’ answer to SlaveTrainer.  He laughed.  “You should give him something to fantasize about.  Let him see what I get to see.”

Chris message appeared at the bottom of the page: “I want to come pick you up again :P”

“You should tell him that you want that too.  He must be horny again,” SlaveTrainer offered.

I typed “Sure!”

He responded, “No car though : (“

SlaveTrainer said “Say something dirty to him, tease him a bit.”

I had become used to the webcam now and said out loud, “Oh my god, stop it.”

SlaveTrainer offered, “Do you want me to talk to him, set something up?”

I laughed “no way!”

“Then say something dirty.  Say that you would love to suck his cock again.  He will love it, trust me.”
       I was feeling frisky and typed “Too bad, would love to suck your cock again.”

He responded “!!!! I’m coming over right now!!!”

“It’s ten miles!”  I typed.

“Damn,” he typed.  “What are you wearing?”

After I told SlaveTrainer what he asked, he said “Tell him the truth.”

I was enjoying this little game too much. I wrote Chris, “I’m naked.”

He replied, “I would soooo love to see that.”

SlaveTrainer said I should take a picture of my tits and send it to him.  I giggled at the suggestion and without thinking, I snapped a photo with the webcam and sent it to him.

“Did you send it?” SlaveTrainer asked.

I nodded, waiting for a reply.

“You have amazing breast!!!” Chris responded.

SlaveTrainer said, “Ask him if your picture is making him hard.”

I typed it and Chris responded, “Fuck yeah!  I’m beating it right now to your photo : )”

I was thrilled to be the object of desire by two men but something subconsciously was nagging at me, suggesting to me that this was dangerous.  I couldn’t stop though.  One thing that you could always count on with me, is me not weighing risk before I dived into something.  I was impulsive.  SlaveTrainer said “Imagine him sticking his hard cock in your cunt.”  I moved my hand to my pussy without thinking about, rubbing the lips.  “Imagine yourself on your back, legs spread, him using your pussy, his hands holding your legs back, driving in and out of you, cumming in you…Tell him that you are touching yourself.”

I followed his directions.  Chris responded, “I can hardly wait to fuck you!”

I rubbed harder and SlaveTrainer said, “Remember to ask my permission to cum.”

I whispered, “Can I cum, sir?”

He gave me permission and I came.

Liz and the Wolves of Shahala

By Rasputtin Szczepanski

Chapter 4

I went to bed exhausted, my body emotionally and sexually drained.  I had checked my cell phone one last time before climbing under the sheets of my unmade bed. There were still no texts or phone messages from Mom. 

At first, I wasn’t sure why I had woken up.  It was the middle of the night.  It was still dark and the green glow of my clock said it was 2 A.M.   Something had awakened me as if setting off an alarm in my subconscious.  I lay still looking at my clock and then I heard a door open downstairs.  I opened my eyes wider and stared at my door.  I sat up slowly.  Someone was in the basement.  I could hear it.  I sat up and listened.  My ears strained in the silence of the house.  It was quiet again.  I wanted to yell out to see if it was Mom but what if it wasn’t?  I got out of bed, the springs in the box mattress squeaking loud enough to shatter the windows.  I was still naked so I quietly put my robe and slippers on.  The floor creaked as I moved.  I slowed down, fearful of the unintentional noise I was making.   I stopped and listened again.  I could only hear the pounding of my heart, rattling my ribcage and deafening my ability to hear anything else.  I closed my eyes and focused on listening harder.  Someone was down in the basement, it sounded like someone dragging something along the floor.

Each step emitted a loud creak as I carefully walked down.  The door to the basement was barely open and beyond, the light was out.  I stopped again and I heard the noise again.  Someone was definitely down there.  I slowly pushed the door open and looked down into the darkness.  I caught my breath.  Something was moving in the dark.  Enough light was coming from street lamps outside, through a small window by the door to break the absolute darkness below.  It seemed like the whole room was moving, dark shadows, something too big to be human, filling the room.   The movement looked like a giant snake moving.   The door creaked and suddenly a head towering near the ceiling turned and two eyes, reflecting the dim lighting, peered up at me. I tried to scream but nothing came out of my mouth.

I woke up in my bed, whimpering, trying to scream.  I clutched at the sheets and muttered “what the fuck?”  It was only a dream. I listened and could not hear anything.  I got up, put on the robe and slippers and went downstairs, turning on every light I could.  I figured that maybe Mom had come home and the noise worked its way into my dreams.  I cautiously opened the door to the basement and turned on the light.  It was empty. 

I went back to bed and lay for with my lights on.  It was 3 AM.  I couldn’t sleep.  I got up and turned on the computer.  SlaveTrainer wasn’t online so I played some World of Warcraft.  Not many people were on so I grinded through mindless quest.

The sun rose and I fixed myself a bowl of cereal.  It was then two days since I saw my mom.  I knew something was wrong.  No texts, no phone calls.  As I sat there at an empty table, I began to cry.  After calming down a bit, I called my mom’s sister, Aunt Holly, asking what to do.  It took several rings before she answered groggily.  She wasn’t a help, saying just that she would try and call Mom and to give it to the afternoon.

I knew that I couldn’t give it much more time.  It was bad and I knew it. In my gut, I knew it.  The horror scenarios were beginning to play out in my head and a deep, dark feeling was coming over me that made me believe she was dead.  A voice in my head argued that I was jumping to illogical conclusions while the other voice said that the heart knew what it knew, somehow my mother came to a horrific end.  I called my Aunt back at 9 AM and she answered the phone like she was still in bed.  She said she called my Mom and left a message.  I called the police.  By noon, they sent someone over and asked a bunch of pointless questions.   The police must have called my Aunt because she came over about 7 PM.  She wanted me to stay with her but she lived in a two bedroom apartment with four kids.  I wanted to be home in case Mom came home or tried to call.  I spent another night alone, this time with all the lights on.

A week went by and it became an investigation.  A couple days before Christmas it was on the news: “Missing Portland Mother being looked for by police.”   The police combed through the house twice.  They took her computer and then returned it a week later.  I deleted Skype in case they decided to go through mine.  The last thing SlaveTrainer needed was to ask to webcam with the Portland Police Department.

The lead investigator seemed very concerned about me, probably because I would break into uncontrolled sobbing every time being questioned.  He was a man named Mr. Ed Mailhot.  Mr. Mailhot was a tall, heavy set man with a walrus mustache.   He focused a lot on questions about Mom’s personal life and the fact that the basement door was locked.  Although tricky, it turned out that someone could lock the door from outside the basement, although the “why” was a line of questioning that the investigator often travelled.  It wasn’t impossible to unlock the door from the outside, but as I proved, it could be done with small object like a wire from a wire hangar.

Both Mr. Mailhot and Aunt Holly tried to talk me into spending Christmas with someone, and not alone.  It took a lot of argument from me and several bouts of uncontrollable sobbing for me to get my way.  I spent my Christmas alone, playing World of Warcraft and feeling guilty and sorry for myself for not doing more to find my Mom.  I felt guilty for wanting to get online and talk to SlaveTrainer2010.  I wanted to get on with my life and that more than anything else made me feel empty and awful because I knew that was the start of me accepting that she was gone for good.

My sister came home.  A Red Cross message finally came through to her and she was granted leave from her school.    She was as lost as I was.  The Navy had changed her, she had filled out, looked fit, more adult.  She was worried about me but she had to get back to the Navy.  She had been accepted into the Navy’s explosive ordinance disposal training.  I had no idea what it was but she described it as elite and very difficult.  Before she left she promised to write and call more and insisted that I ask her for help if I needed anything, even money.

School started again the first Monday of the New Year and Aunt Holly insisted I go.  Most of my friends didn’t connect the disappearance of the Portland woman with me and for that, I was grateful.  Eric did know.  He was the one person that I could talk to about it, even if was just typed words through World of Warcraft and Facebook.  He asked me often how I was doing and I always lied and said I was fine.

I had avoided Clark and his flirty messages on Facebook.  Eventually he stopped trying.  At school, I got a curious glance from him but he never approached me.  I went back to being invisible at school, and moving silently through the curriculum, one day at a time.  It was how I preferred it, to suffer my loss in silence.

A week into the third semester, something changed.  At first, I was oblivious to it.  I was walking in a cloud, living in a dark depression.  Slowly though, I noticed that I was being looked at, commented on in whispers out of my reach.  At first, I thought maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t washed my hair or was just throwing on anything without a care for how I looked.  The worse I looked the better.  My face had broken out with a few pimples.

Eric was reluctant to tell me what was going on but I forced the issue online late one night.  He told me to go to my computer and he would email me the source of the attention.  Something that what was going around to almost everyone in school.  I opened my email and the photo attached to it.  I have to admit, the graphics on the photo were well done.  Someone with good Photoshop skills had skillfully worked the word “Super Slut” in a nice calligraphic font along the bottom of the photo.  The photo was me, naked at my computer, smiling like an idiot.

I went back to my Xbox to talk to Eric.  “Everyone has this?” I asked.

I could hear the mortification in his voice.  “It seems like it,” he said.

“Who sent it first?”  My voice was quivering with hurt.  I asked the question but I knew that it was Clark.  I was angrier with myself for doing something so stupid.  Still, I wondered how much Kris had to do with the distribution.

“I don’t know.  I’m sorry about this Liz.  I should have told you sooner… I feel awful.  People are so stupid…I hate this state.”

I was lucky that broke on a Friday.  I lay in my bed after that and didn’t get up until Aunt Holly rang the doorbell at noon the next day.

She sat me down to talk.  I knew then that just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, it was.  She told me that she was going to move into to the house, bringing her four children and her boyfriend.  My mom wasn’t legally dead but there was some legal stuff going on that allowed Aunt Holly to inherit the house and take over the finances.  It seemed shady but I wasn’t in a position to argue.  I was helpless and alone.

They moved in the next weekend.  There was a lot of discussion about rooms.  There were only three rooms in the house.  Mom’s room was going to be Aunt Holly and her boyfriend, Herb Hunter. Herb Hunter… I always thought that was a stupid name. Reminded me of my Druid on World of Warcraft, always collecting herbs. He always pegged the creep alarm in me.  He was skinny with long goatee and tattoos on his neck. The opposite of Aunt Holly who was short and fat.  Whenever he saw me, he always glanced first at my boobs, and then he put on this sugary demeanor, always trying to pull me into conversation.

The four children split the other two rooms. I was asked if I minded living in the basement. Odd enough, I didn’t mind. At the very least, it would keep Herb from turning into a Meth lab, something I suspected him of since I first met him. Herb and I moved my bed and stuff down to the basement. 

Despite a big bed awkwardly placed in the middle of the room, I liked it. I liked the privacy.  It got me away from the constantly screaming children who ranged from one year old to seven. It got me away from Herb’s leering glances. The first night though, after turning off the lights, I remembered my nightmare and suddenly, the basement didn’t seem like such a good idea. I kept my computer on as a night light, to take off the creepy edge.

My first night in the basement, I fell asleep fine but woke up terrified. I didn’t remember my dream but my heart was still rapidly beating in my chest. I could hear something. It seemed like I was awake but I’ve been fooled by my nightmares before. I stopped breathing, trying to hear.  It sounded like water falling in a cave.  It was a far off sound that one would only hear in a cavern, foreign to any sound that should be heard in that old house at the top of Munjoy Hill.  I laid still, started to breathe again, and closed my eyes, trying to focus on if the noise was real or in my head.  The sound was there, far off, barely audible. Listening to the sound, finding it soothing, if odd, I fell asleep again.

Winter in Maine is a miserable time.  Aunt Holly worked and could only give me a ride to school if I left an hour early.  That wasn’t going to happen.  I still stayed up way too late playing on the computer.  Since Herb didn’t work, he was always willing to give me a ride but he always managed to find a way to creep me out.  It was usually his touches that he would leave for a little too long on me:  A hand squeezing my shoulder, a hand stroking the back of my head, his arm brushing my breast.  Then there were the constant questions about my non-existent romantic life.  So I would walk to school, through sleet or snow.  Maine in winter is dark, grey clouds are always low overhead.  I would walk to school in the dark and the sun would nearly be set by the time I got home.  I would leave my LL Bean boots caked in dirty salt mud at the door before eating and going to my computer in the basement to play.

Life became a routine.  I got used to Aunt Holly and her family.  When her kids were not driving me insane, I would act the role of big sister and sometimes hang with them in the living room, watching cartoons with them.   That would last until Herb decided to join and try to make friends with me.

Mr. Mailhot the inspector would check in with me once a week, filling me in on how they continued to find nothing.  After a month, they returned many of my mom’s books and her computer.   Aunt Holly kept the computer up in her room.  I took the books and notes and put them back on my mother’s desk in the basement.  I read through them some nights, looking for clues that I knew didn’t exist.  There was little there that I hadn’t seen before at it seemed that she stopped taking any sort of notes a month before she disappeared.

I did know that she must have taken the necklace with the dragon shaped stone with her, wherever she went.  I couldn’t find it anywhere in the house.  I opened every drawer in the house looking for it.  I really wished that I had it.  I obsessed with its loss.  Looking at the design in the book one night, I decided that I wanted to honor my mom with a tattoo.  The design was beautiful.  I don’t know why I wanted it, but perhaps I wanted something permanent.  Each day without her made her more of a memory and I hated that.  I didn’t want to forget her or lose the belief that one day soon she was going to walk through the door, apologizing profusely for the worry she had caused.

Aunt Holly had suspended my allowance, saying that she couldn’t afford it.   She also cut off the internet which really hurt.  No more surfing by myself in the basement, no more late night raids, no more Xbox slaughter fest, no more perverted discussions with my online Master.  I needed money for the tattoo as well as my cellphone which was also cut off.  I started asking around to shovel snow from driveways for cash.  My next door neighbor was a state congressman and he was very aware of my situation.  His wife overcompensated me for the work and a good payment from a heavy snow was enough to last me a couple weeks.  I also knew where Aunt Holly hid her money.  It was her tin can savings, like she was some depression era wife.  I wanted to tell her to hide it better before Herb found it and used it to buy some cocaine but I’m not sure if she could see anything bad in Herb.  She was hungry for a man in her life and she got Herb.  I knew that only the situation playing itself out would ever convince her of what a bad life choice she had made.  So, I borrowed a few from the tin can.  I didn’t have enough for internet, but I was able to scrape up $100, hopefully enough for a tattoo.  I wasn’t sure how much a tattoo was but I knew my dragon design was simple.  I scanned a copy of the drawing in Mom’s book and printed it out.  Then on Saturday, I bundled up in all my winter survival gear and walked downtown to the tattoo parlor.

A bell rang against the door as I walked in.  Numerous photos of tattoos designed at the place were posted on a counter near the door, completely covering the sides and top.  A young woman popped her head out of a door that led to a private room in the back.  She looked at me and cocked her head.  She had short, dark hair and a pretty, but determined face.  She had a few freckles and her face has a boyish, impish shape to it.

She smiled at me and I nervously smiled back, taking of my cap.  She had a baggy sweater and dark, black jeans with combat boots.  I guessed that underneath the warm clothing was a whole catalog of tattoos covering her body.  She walked up to the counter slowly, studying me as if confused, or if she possibly knew me.  “Can I help you?” she said.

I breathed in and said “I would like to get a tattoo.”

“Oh, awesome.  Can I see some ID?”

I cursed inwardly.  I had seen the “18 and over” sign legally posted on the wall.  I pulled my high school ID card and handed it to her. There wasn’t an age listed on it but my listed grade was a definite sign of my young age.  She took it and read it, longer than what was necessary.

She looked up, “You go to Portland High School?”

I nodded.  She read the name off the card slowly, as if tasting it “Elizabeth Hall….Elizabeth?”

“They call me Liz.”

“What sort of tattoo do you want?”

I pulled the copy out of my purse, unfolded it and placed it on the counter.  “I would like this on my chest – about the size of a silver dollar, right here.”  I pointed to about two inches higher than where my heart was.

She stared at the image for again what seemed too long, studying it.  “What is this…I mean, what does it mean?”

“It’s called the Cintamani…it’s kind of a long story.  It represents someone that I love and miss.”

She traced the figure with her fingers then looked up at me.  I couldn’t escape that feeling that she was sizing me up and calculating something.  “I can’t give you a tattoo here, you have to be 18.”  I sighed and thought that I should have planned this out better.  I could have made a fake ID.  She leaned closer.  “If you want though, I can give this to you at my house, privately.”  She turned over the picture and wrote her address and phone number on the blank side.  “You’re not a cop are you?”

I shook my head even though I could see she already knew I wasn’t.

“Be there at 6 PM and I’ll do it for you.”

I could feel her eyes on me as I walked out of the parlor.  As I found out later, after I walked out, she opened her laptop and pulled out the bare breasted photo of me that one of her high school friends shared with her.  She smiled and licked her lips.

Liz and the Wolves of Shahala

By Rasputtin Szczepanski

Chapter 5

The address to which I was to arrive at wasn’t far from my house.  It was a duplex down Congress St. as it headed up Munjoy Hill.  The address was for the bottom floor apartment.  I showed up about 15 minutes early.  The sky was clear and a bitter cold was numbing my exposed skin.  I knocked on the door.  It opened and my new tattoo artist stood at the door.  She had a white tank top on, with no bra and as I had correctly guessed, various tattoos ran up and down her arms.

She held the screen door open and said, “You’re early.  If I say 6 o’clock, I mean 6 o’clock, not five fifty.”

Her chastising tone surprised me.  She beckoned for me to come in. I stammered, “I’m sorry, I guess I misjudged the distance.”

She closed the door and grabbed my jacket before I even started to take it off.  I let her pull it off and she hung it next to the door.  She smiled, “it’s warm in here so you might as well take off as much as you can, including the boots.”

I left the boots at the door and remained in jeans and a t-shirt.  I followed her into a kitchen.  She spun around and said, “Want a glass of wine before we start?”

Of course I did.  I wanted anything that would calm me down.  I was suddenly having second thoughts about the whole process and I was jittery.  I nodded and she poured me a glass of red wine.  She also poured herself one.  She raised it as if toasting and said “to calm your nerves.”

She sipped her wine and watched me as I drank mine.  I was uncomfortable with the silence.  “Do you do a lot of tattoos here?”

“Not really,” she said and brought her glass to her lips, taking more in.

The wine was good, not that I was a good judge.  The only other wine I had was the stuff I snuck in my own house.

  Once I was finished, she took my glass, put it down on the table and grabbed my hand.  The intimate touch shocked me again and I blushed.  I wasn’t sure what to do or what to say.  She pulled me to a back room.  There was a padded chair which back was pushed so that you could lay down on it at an incline.  Next to it was a small table with the tools for tattooing, the picture of the dragon symbol taped to a board and a high chair.  She let go of my hand and stroked the back of my head. “You ready Liz, or do you want to relax a bit before we start?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not sure.  How about…I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”

“You can call me Miss Ambrosia,” she said.

“Miss Ambrosia, this is my first tattoo, so I’m not quite sure how it works.”

“It’s easy.”  She squeezed my shoulder and led me to the chair.  “Sit down there.”  I sat down and she stood next to me.  “I’m going to have you take off your shirt and then lay down.  Then I’ll trace the symbol on your chest, then tattoo it in.  It will hurt a little but that’s not a bad place to get it.  It won’t be too bad.  It will take about two to three hours I think.”  She leaned over and pressed play on an iPod player.  Soothing new age music filled the room.

“O.k.  Do I take off my shirt now?” I asked.

“Yes.”  She watched me and stood uncomfortably close.  I pulled the t-shirt over my head.  She grabbed it and placed it on a dresser.  I started to lay back and she said, “That bra will get in the way, take that off too.”

I felt embarrassed but I knew what she was saying was true.  I told myself that this was like going to the doctor, nothing to be embarrassed about.  I unhooked my bra and she placed it on top of my shirt.  I crossed my arms over my nipples, covering them.  She laughed, “No need to cover those.  Those are some fantastic tits.  Go ahead and lay down.”

I lay back on the padded chair.  She grabbed my arm and gently pulled them down to my side.  I glanced at her face and she seemed like she was devouring me with her eyes.  I thought, “Oh God, she’s a lesbian.”   I don’t think I ever met a lesbian before, although there were rumors of those at school that floated around.  Some thought I was a lesbian so I didn’t put a lot of weight into those stories.  She is just different, I told myself. She laid her hand on my shoulder.  “Now, you will have to lie perfectly still.  If you want, I can strap you into the chair to keep you from moving, just let me know if you need it.”  She was watching my reaction.  She smiled and patted my cheek, “Ready?”

“I guess so,” my nervously was shining through.  She sat down and started prepping her tools. 

“Now, you can’t tell anyone where you got this.  I will deny everything.  Understand?”  I nodded.  She took a cloth and cleaned off the area where she was going to tattoo.  The smell of rubbing alcohol drifted up to my nose.  She put the picture on my belly and began to draw the outline out on me, using an ink pen just above my breast. As she focused on drawing she started to draw me into conversation.  “What made you decide to get a tattoo?”

I sighed, “It’s something my Mom used to wear.  She’s disappeared…I thought it was symbolic.” 

Miss Ambrosia looked up at me, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.  I just thought this would be a way to remember her.”

“It’s a good tattoo.  Even without the meaning, it’s a beautiful design.  It’s nice that you are getting this.   Do you have any other tattoos?”

“No, this is my first.”

“Oh?  Mmmm, I’m honored to give you your first.  What will your boyfriend say?”

“I don’t have one.”

“A pretty thing like you, come on.”

I blushed and she continued to ask idle questions until she was done with the outline.  Then she prepped the tattoo gun and held it, “Are you ready?”she asked.

I nodded.  I heard it buzz and when she touched it to my skin I jumped.  She raised the gun.  “If you jump around, I’m going to have to strap you in.  Do you want that?  It could make it easier.”

Butterflies danced around in my stomach and my nipples swelled until they were stiff corks on top of my breast.  I could see her eyeing them and her headlights became more pronounced through her thin white shirt.  She smiled and slowly put the tattoo gun down to the skin. I closed my eyes and didn’t move this time.  It stung, a slow, constant pain but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.  She would stop every now and then and stroke my arm or my hair gently.

She laid down the outline.  When she started on the color, I jerked and whimpered.  She put the tattoo gun down.  “Ok, we need to keep you still.”  She got up, went to a drawer and pulled out some leather cuffs.  She put one on each of my wrist, tightened and then pulled my arms above my head where she connected the bracelets with some padeye on the top of the chair.  I watched her silently.   I could hear nothing but my heart pounding in my chest.  She pulled out some long leather belts.  The first one she wrapped around my waist and then around the back of the chair.  Then the other one she put across my neck.  She only tightened it enough so that I couldn’t move my head up.  I was immobilized.  She stroked my hair again and then started again on the color.  The belt over my throat felt tight and made me a little dizzy.  I forgot about it after the pain started again.

A half hour later, she was done.  She dabbed away some blood and she put a mirror in front of me so I could see. “It will look better in a week.”

“It’s perfect,” I said and then waited for her to unstrap me.

“Make sure to cover it with a bandage for about a week.  You can shower and all, just don’t want to pick at it.” She put a bandage over the tattoo and then smoothed it with her hand.  Her hand continued and ran down my arm.  “You are very pretty.”  She spoke the words slowly, drawing them out.

I tried not to look into her eyes.  Her hand brushed against the side of my breast.  She laughed “You are so shy, I love it.”  Normally I would have protested, claimed that I wasn’t into women, but the experience had left me supercharged with excitement.  I was tied up with no control.  I should have told her no but I couldn’t, I didn’t want to.  She must have sensed it because she continued to let her hand, slowly run up to the top of my breast, where her fingers then circles my nipples.  She watched my eyes, gauging my reaction.  Her eyes were wet with desire.  My mouth was hanging open, I must have looked like I was panting.  She leaned in and kissed me long and soft on the lips.  Her fingers moved in closer and circled the tips of my nipples.  I made a soft whimpering sound, a short cry that must have sounded pathetic.  Instead it seemed to drive and excite her.  She kissed me harder.  Her hand cupped my breast, mauling it and then pressed hard down against my stomach, running down until it reached my jeans.  She unsnapped my pants and unzipped them.  Then I tried to utter a protest but she kept her mouth pressed against mine.

Her hands slipped down under my panties and her finger slid right through my patch of public hair and into my slit.  She found it slippery, warm and wet.  Her finger held there and I moaned, spreading my legs, trying to push up with my hips.  She began to slowly rub me.  She looked into my eyes again, watching me as she pleasured my pussy with her finger.  She leaned down and kissed my breast, then took a nipple in her mouth and sucked on it.  Her mouth encasing it, her tongue slide around the nipple, lathering it.  She sucked in on it, her finger working furiously now, up and down my slit, touching me in a way that I never imagined I could be touched.

I was on the verge of orgasm.  I couldn’t believe it.  I liked women.  This meant I was a lesbian or at least bisexual.  I shuddered and came.  She wiggled and pushed her finger against me as I cried out, loud enough for the occupants upstairs to hear.  She stopped sucking on my breast and watched me.  She leaned in and whispered, “Good girl, there you go.”

As my orgasm passed, she slowly brought her hand up and ran it up my belly, then lifted the palm so that just her fingers circled my nipples, leaving a trail of my own juices.  She continued up to my mouth where she slowly dipped her finger into my mouth.  She whispered again, “suck it.”   I did, tasting my own juices on her finger.

She removed it and suddenly I fell backwards.  She had lowered the back of the chair so that I was inclined all the way back.  It was at a slight angle where my head was facing down towards the floor.  She smiled in a way that indicated her wicked intent and started to unsnap her pants.  She slipped out of them, pulling down her panties with them.  Her sex was bare and puffy.  A tattoo of a rose vine with thorns climbed down to her pussy.  She stepped over me so that she was straddling my chest.  Her sex was close to my face.  She pushed it forward so that she was squatting right next to my head.  Her pussy was right over my mouth.  “My turn. Lick me,” and she lowered herself so that her pussy rested on my lips.

I pushed out my tongue and it slipped into her.  I tasted her warmth.  She rubbed herself up and down my tongue.  She would pause as my tongue pushed up against the top.  My mind reeled from the how surreal my situation was.  I was tied down and a woman was pleasuring herself on my face.  I was getting excited again.  Judging by her heat and wetness, she was excited by me.  She grabbed a fistful of my hair and began to grind herself on me.  I couldn’t lick anymore, I simply stuck out my tongue and she pushed herself up and down on it.  Her speed and strength increased until she looked up at the ceiling and moaned. The wetness covered my face and my chin.  I could feel the muscles in her cunt twitch on my tongue. 

She slowly calmed down and stepped back over me.  She leaned down, kissed me and then got up and got a camera.  Before I could protest, she took a few photos of me.  Then, putting the camera down, she undid the straps.  I wanted to protest but something in her glare frightened me.

“Can you spend the night?” she asked.

“I…I need to call Aunt and let her know but it should be ok.”

Miss Ambrosia got a cell phone and handed it to me.  After calling home and telling them I was spending the night at a friend’s house, Ambrosia grabbed me by the hand and took me to her bedroom.  We kissed, licked and fingered each other under the sheets until I was sore and I fell asleep curled up against her.

Liz and the Wolves of Shahala

By Rasputtin Szczepanski

Chapter 6

Miss Ambrosia started to treat me like her girlfriend, wooing me every step, keeping in constant contact via phone texts and Facebook.  I spent a little time each day either hanging out at her tattoo shop or her place.  When alone, she could never keep her hands off me, always slipping up my shirt to cup and play with my breast or down my pants to stroke my pussy.

The longer we went out, the more she asked about my life and questioned my every move.  She became angry if I was not with her during my free time.  Despite her controlling personality, I was addicted to how quickly she could make me cum.

When we fooled around, she would often pin me down and then kiss me all over.  Her fingers would often dip inside of me and feel around the unbroken hymen.  One day she fingered me as I lay naked on the bed.  She rubbed and caressed me until I was nearly ready to climax.  Then she lay on top of me and whispered into my ear, “I want to take your virginity.”

“How?” I whispered.  She got up and pulled out a black plastic rubber dildo attached to a black leather harness from her drawer of toys.  She held it in front of me, smiling that wicked smile of hers.  She is wicked, I thought to myself.  Why am I not more careful with her?  She pushed the dildo to my lips. 

“Kiss is,” she ordered.  I puckered my lips and softly kissed the tip.  She pulled it away and strapped the device on her bare hips so that the other end of the dildo pushed up against her clit.  She walked over to me and stroked my face. 

“Show me how you sucked off your boyfriend.” I winced and wished I didn’t tell her that story.  She was like a professional interrogator though and I found that there wasn’t much I could keep from her.   I leaned up on and arm and moved to a position where I could reach her bobbing black toy.  She pushed me back down and pulled my head over to the corner of the bed.  She laid the rubber cock in my mouth and slowly pushed it in.  I began to suck it.  “Good girl,” she whispered.  I moaned and began to move my head, sucking on it, wondering how she could enjoy it when she couldn’t feel it.  She held my head and pushed into my mouth.  I nearly gagged and the cock pushed back against Ambrosia’s sex.  I saw her open her mouth in pleasure and I began to understand.

She slid the cock in and out of my mouth, getting it wet with my spit.  She pushed me back and climbed onto the bed, crawling between my legs.  She spread them and laid her rubber cock so that the tip was nestled between my pussy lips.  She leaned forward and whispered into my ear “You will never forget the person that took you virginity.”  I wanted to stop her.  I was scared and that fear jumped up as she pushed forward suddenly and I felt the tearing.  She plunged forward, looking at my face.  I cried out and tried to push her off.  She pushed in deep and then held it there as she bottomed out.  She slowly pulled back and then slowly pushed in again.  Each time felt like I was being ripped in half.  I muttered “owww, please…” and tears squeezed from the tips of my eyes and rolled down onto the sheets.  She seemed to take pleasure in it and I could see her pleasure building up.  Inside me, a pleasure was growing that was overcoming the diminishing pain.  I focused on it.  Anastasia began to push in and out faster.  I was being fucked.  The thought rocked me and I pushed my hips up.  The feeling of something inside of me, filling me, stretching me was unlike any other feeling I have ever felt.  I shuddered, my hands grabbing at her back and I came.  She started to push into me harder and wasn’t far behind me.  I saw her grind herself against the strap on, breathing hard, riding her orgasm.

After that, she enjoyed fucking me whenever she could.  The violent lovemaking would either with the strap on, or just by grinding her sex against mine.  Afterwards, we would lie in bed and she would caress me and ask me questions about almost everything.  She dug into my history with sexuality and was fascinated with my early online exploration.  She asked, “Did you talk to people online?”

“Yes, a lot,” I told her, lying with her arm wrapped around me.

“What program did you use to talk to people?” she asked.

“Mostly Skype or MIRC, but sometimes chat roulette,” I told her.

“Skype?  What was your screen name?” she asked.

I told her.

Her hand felt nice as it ran back and forth across my chest.  “Did they know how old you were?”

“Sometimes.  Most of the time I lied.”

“You are so naughty.  Did you webcam with any?”

“One guy.”

“An online boyfriend?”  She was interested.

“Not really.”

“Did you play with your pussy for him?”

I swallowed.  I always felt like I was walking into some sort of trap when the questioning started like this.

She smiled and kissed my shoulder.  “Did you show him your pussy?”

I nodded.

“That’s kind of like a boyfriend.  Why not anyone else?”

“I don’t know.  I guess meeting you kept me busy.”

“What was his name?”

“Oh, he had one of those stupid online name.”

“What was it?” she asked.

“SlaveTrainer2010.” 

Her breath was on my cheek and I felt it stop, just for a moment.  “Did you enjoy talking to him on the web?”  Her hands slowly traced my breast and she cupped one softly.  I hated my breast when I lay on my back.  They almost sagged right off my sides.  She loved them and was always touching them.

“I guess so,” I whispered. 

Her fingers began to trace my nipples.  She was staring intently at me.  It was still afternoon and the cold Maine sun lit my nude form.  She didn’t like closing the shades but I was safe from any neighbor’s view.  The next building over just had a wall without windows. 

“Did he demand things from you?”

“Yes.” 

Her fingers ran down my belly.  “You liked it…being ordered to do things? Shameful things?”

“I guess.”

Her fingers dipped between my legs and then ran along my inner thigh.

“Did he teach you anything?”  Her touching was driving me wild and despite the recent orgasm, I could feel my excitement building between my legs.

“I guess.”  I really wanted to be someplace other than there.  My online master was my secret that I wasn’t going to tell anyone.

Her fingers began to touch around my pussy, sometimes moving in softly to lightly touch the lips, tracing them.  “What did he teach you?”

“Um.  Well, he was into something called BDSM I think and he taught me about dominants and submissive.”

Ambrosia’s finger pushes slightly on a labia lip and pulled it open slowly.  “And he showed you that you were submissive?”

I swallowed and tried not to push my hips up.  “I guess so.”

“And he was a dominant?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Say ‘Yes Miss Ambrosia.”

I paused and looked at her.  She began to dip her finger into me and spread the juices around my labia lips.  I saw what she was doing and where this was going.  I whispered, “Yes Miss Ambrosia.”

“Good girl,” she said, her finger now sliding up and down, nearing my clit but always just stopping short of it.  “Did he take you as a slave?”

“No.”

She pinched my clit.  I jumped, “Oww!”

She put her hand on my stomach, holding me down.  “It’s ‘no Miss Ambrosia.’”

“Sorry.” 

She continued to stroke me, “Did you want him to take you as a slave?”

“No…I mean, I don’t know…Miss Ambrosia.”

“Do you like the idea?”

I knew that she could feel with her fingers how my body reacted to that thought. 

I couldn’t answer now that she was stroking me again.  Her other hand which was curled around me, cupped my breast and began to squeeze it.  “Your submissive and are in need of someone to own you, train you, isn’t that right?”

I was breathing hard.  She pinched my nipple.  “Isn’t that right?”

I nodded.  She released the nipple and massaged it.  “You are in luck then, because I want you.  I wanted you the moment I saw you.   I want you totally.  I want you completely.  I’m going to make you my slave.”

I was trying not to cum, not to react to the things she was telling.  I felt like I was going to pass out.  This wasn’t a game with someone anonymous, this was real and I knew that I was moving into something dangerous.  “Would you like that? To be my slave?” she asked.

I shook my head and tried to speak, “I better not.  I like hanging out and all…”

“How about if I don’t give you a choice?”  She looked at my blank expression and explained some more, “you don’t have a choice.  I’m taking you.”  She slid her finger into me.  “I’m taking you and making you mine, my pleasure slave.  My pussy slave.  Understood?”

I couldn’t answer, I was coming.  I arched my back and screamed, my pussy clamping at her finger, me wishing it was more.  She curled the finger up and held it there.  Her other hand pinched a nipple, tugging on it, making me cum harder.

When I came down, she removed her finger and lay back on her back.  She pushed my head down between her legs “Now, make me cum, girl.  Then we’ll start your training.”

Liz and the Wolves of Shahala

By Rasputtin Szczepanski

Chapter 7

Miss Ambrosia became Mistress Ambrosia that night.  That was her first rule.  She was now my mistress.  I was to learn to respect her, to recognize her as my superior and to worship her.  Unless she told me otherwise, I was to be naked around her all the time, so that she had easy access to my “charms” and I learned my place in her household.

I went home that night, wet and excited.  It was a late weekday.  Although I was practically living at Ambrossia’s house, my Aunt still expected me to stay at home.  I could get away on the weekends of staying over, but on school nights I went home, ate something out of the fridge and then went down to the basement to go to bed.

I noticed the car gone and the light still on.  A bad sign.  That meant that Aunt Holly was gone and Herb was most likely home.   Sure enough, as I unlocked the door and walked in, he was sitting on the couch watching TV.  An old Burger King Star War decorated glass was filled with ice and coffee brandy on the coffee table.  On the TV was something from Skinamax.  He turned the channel when he saw me and smiled.  “Well hello Liz.”

I nodded and headed to my room.  He jumped up, ran over and grabbed my arm.  “Hey! Don’t you even say hello anymore?”

“Hi Herb,” I said deadpan.

“You can always call me Uncle Herb.”

“Maybe when you marry Aunt Holly.”  He still had his hand on my arm.  He was wearing an old t-shirt and sweat pants.  I was looking down, trying not to look in his eyes and I could see his boner pushing up, tenting his pants.  I pulled my arm away and opened the door to the basement.  I went to close it behind me but he held it open.  I flipped the light on and went downstairs.

He waited a second and then stepped down a few steps and quietly closed the door behind him.  He started down “I look at myself as more of a good friend to your relative anyway.”  He slowly walked down the steps.  “So where do you go all this time?  A boyfriend?”        

“No.  Just a friend.  I’m going to go to bed now,” I said exasperated.   

He stopped at the bottom of the steps.  “I can’t believe you sleep down here every night.  It’s kind of creepy.  Do the spiders get you?”

“It’s not bad.  Not many spiders but some manage to make it down there.  I kill them when I see them.”  I stared at him, letting him know that he was a spider.

“I would invite you up to my bed.  Much nicer.  Can’t of course because Holly is in it.  She’s not there tonight though.”

“Where is she?”

Herb moved closer to me.  I moved back until the desk blocked me.  “She’s out with friends.  Won’t be back for awhile.”  He placed his hand on my arm again, “No boyfriend?  That’s a shame.  You are so beautiful and sexy.”

Unlike you, disgusting and filthy, I thought.  He pressed into me, his hand lifting my chin as he leaned down to kiss me.  I wrestled my hands up between me and him and pushed him back.  “Please, just go back upstairs so I can go to bed.”  He grabbed my waist and pulled me back towards him.  “Stop!”

His hand went up and cupped my breast and he pushed himself in again to kiss me.  I pushed him away harder and he held me tight. “Listen, it’s ok.  Just enjoy this.”

“Get the fuck out of my room Herb!”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back.  His full body pushed against mine.  I could feel his hard-on press up against my thigh.  “You are going to tease me every day and then get all fridged on me?”

“I wasn’t teasing you, just get the fuck out or I’m going to tell Aunt Holly.”

He pulled my hair harder back and I cried out.  “She’s not going to believe you.  She doesn’t even like you.  You eat all our food, you never say thanks to anything.  You never even say hi to her.   She’s your only family and you treat her like shit.”  His hand groped my breast through the shirt and bra again.  “You need to start doing something to earn your way around here.”

“I’ll fucking call the cops and you will go to jail where you belong.”  I was trying not to cry but the urge to sob was hovering under my chest, readying to burst through. 

“You would do that wouldn’t you, you little ungrateful bitch.  How about this?  How about I start stealing Holly’s shit and saying that you did it?  Maybe break something of hers and I tell her a little story about how I saw you going through her things.  Who is she going to believe?”  He slipped his hand under my shirt and pushed it under my bra, cupping my bare breast.

I tried to speak but instead, just a sob came out.  I swallowed and forced out the words “I don’t give a shit.  I will make sure you are dead or in jail.  Who are the cops going to believe, a high school girl or a junkie meth dealer?”

He removed his hand and stepped back. “Where you get that idea?  I aint no fucking meth dealer.”

I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt.  I screamed “Get the fuck out of my room!”

He looked up at the door as if gauging if the children upstairs could hear my screaming.  He stepped back, “You should reconsider.  Things can either be real easy around here, or real hard.”  He stared at me for a second, then turned around and went upstairs.  He closed the door behind him and I ran up and locked it.  I went down to my bed and fell down into it, grabbing a pillow and hiding my face in it, crying.

Upstairs I heard him turn off the TV and walk up to the top floor of the house.  Various creaks and groans echoed through the house as it settled for the night.  I lay there, wiping my eyes with the sheet and began to feel very low.  Why was I letting myself become a victim?  My sexual decadence was putting me in a vulnerable position with Ambrosia, although I was addicted to the feeling that she could give me.  I really did worshipped her but it was a cautious love.  Something about her scared me.  She was dangerous, just like Herb.  I was nothing but a sexual object to him as well.  School was still miserable.  I was miserable.  I missed my Mom.

From somewhere came that sound of water dripping in a cave.  So far off.  I strained to hear it.  Something that sounded like a swarm of bees tipped softly into my hearing and then disappeared.  I couldn’t be sure if my ears were playing tricks on me.  I stood up and looked around.  The hum was almost mechanical but it was foreign enough to make the hair on my neck stand up.  Then it as if it was too far away for me to hear anymore.  I still had that feeling of déjà vu, like I had heard it in a dream.  It was familiar and something was pinging me in my subconscious.   I was awake this time though and it was no dream.

I walked slowly around the room, trying to figure out where the noise was originating from.  When I walked though, I couldn’t hear it.  I gave up, turned off the light and lay back down.  As I drifted off to sleep, I could hear the noise, far off, like a tape of women screaming and then sped up one hundred times so that it was just a high pitched hum. 

I slept, but restlessly, with disturbing dreams.  My iphone alarm woke me up, the Justin Beiber song blaring way too loud for 6 a.m.  I put on my robe and made the long journey up to the bathroom.  When I worked my way to the kitchen, Aunt Holly was there, baking a bagel and already dressed and ready for work.  She had a displeased look on her face.  I rubbed my eyed and grunted, “hi.”

“You look a little hung over,” she said.

I went to the fridge and muttered “What?”  Not really comprehending the question.

“Herb said you came in late last night smelling like a brewery.”  Her Maine accent was thick.

I stopped and turned.  I felt like I had just walked onto my first battlefield of the war.  I knew I was on dangerous ground and I needed to wake up and pay attention.  I said, “I was late but I wasn’t drunk.  I was studying with a friend.”

“With your grades, I find that hard to believe.”  She turned completely towards me and put her hands on her hips.  “Listen, my rules are relatively relaxed with you being that you’re my sister’s kid but if you are going to stay here, you need to follow the rules.  I want you home here on the weekdays after school unless you are working.”

I wanted to say that Herb was a junkie liar but I knew that salvo would be met with a formidable defense.  “That’s not fair!  I’m not doing anything wrong.  I don’t even have fucking internet here.  How am I expected to do homework?”

Her face grew stern.  “You want fucking internet, you get a job and pay for the fucking internet.  If you don’t like it, you can go fuck yourself and find someone else to mooch off of.”

“Some sister you are.”  I turned around and stormed out, unwilling to let it spiral out of control and wanting the last word.  I had already given Herb a win.  I needed to be cautious.  I strode into the bathroom and closed the door.  I looked at myself in the mirror.  The face that looked back at me looked tired and sad.  The face asked with her eyes, why are you such a looser?  I took off the robe and looked again.  I was pale with dark rings under my eyes.  My breast were ugly and fat.  My shoulders sunk down as the weight of my depression began to grind down on me.  I traced the tattoo on my chest with my finger.  It no longer had an angry red glow to it.  It was a part of me now.  I whispered, “I’m not going to forget about you, Mom.”

Liz and the Wolves of Shahala

By Rasputtin Szczepanski

Chapter 8

I texted Ambrosia while I was at school, telling her about the new rules.  She responded that since I failed to address her as “Mistress” in the original text that I would have to be punished first before she could let me go home.

I rolled my eyes and quickly deleted the text history, mortified that she had texted that to me and the possibility of someone reading it over my shoulder.  For a moment I was offended and on the verge of cutting off all contact with her, but a growing slickness between my legs betrayed my body’s true feelings.  I spent the day wondering what the punishment would be, and my wild imagination stoked my libido to the point where I couldn’t focus on anything else.  My grades were barely hovering over the C and D range.  Algebra I was flat out failing.  So my glassy stare out the window was nothing new to my teachers.

Socially, I was still an outcast.  Eric and I seldom talked anymore, after we lost the common bond of video games.  He was kind enough though to say hi every now and then and ask how I was doing.  He started dating Kris. After her successful humiliation of me with the photo, she viewed me less of threat and lumped me in with the other geeks and nerds.  I had a few of them, young boys, seeing me as someone that they could “get.”  It usually only took an icy threat to be uttered by me for them to retreat and become one of those that whispered things about me in the numerous huddles that happened between periods.

That photo was still out there.   Its existence was enough to fuel my rage.  I would look at Kris when she wasn’t looking and plot out my revenge.  The same went for Craig.  He kept away from me as well, afraid of the social stigma that would rub off on him.  I could tell by his side glances at me when he thought I wasn’t looking, that despite his conquest of me and my pariah status, he still felt desire for me.  Both of them met horrible ends numerous times in my imagination.

A long single beep on the intercom indicated the end of the day.  I packed up my book bag, put on the jacket and headed straight to Ambrosia’s house.  If I was quick, I could run home and be there in time not to arouse suspicion.

Ambrosia was waiting for me when I arrived.  She had a stern look but her eyes were sparkling.  I could always tell that she was delighted to see me.  She closed the door behind me.  “Put your bag and clothes on the table,” she ordered.  I complied, taking off the jacket and laying it down.  “All of them. Get naked!”  I suspected that was coming.  I glanced nervously at the uncovered window in the door.  Ambrosia stood with arms crossed, tapping her foot and waiting while I removed the layers of my clothes until I was standing naked in her kitchen.  She smiled and walked around me.  “Good girl.  Now get down on your knees.”

I obeyed.  I was getting excited fast.  Her power over me was intoxicating.  I was pleasing her and that sent a ripple of pleasure through me.  My eyes followed her as she grabbed a leather collar off the table.  It was like a dog collar, black leather with a steel hook at the end.  A small steel hoop hung at the front.  She wrapped it around my neck and pulled the end through the hook, latching it shut.  She ran her hand along it.  “This is your collar.  It is a symbol that you are my slave.  You are to wear it at all times.  Understood?”  I looked up at her and nodded.

She attached a leash to the metal loop.  “I can see that I have a lot of work with you.  When I ask you something you are to respond, ‘yes, Mistress’ or ‘no, Mistress’.  Understand?”

“Yes Mistress,” I managed to choke out. 

“Good girl.”  She grabbed the dog leash and pulled on it.  “Crawl and follow me.”  I got down on my hands and knees and she led me out of the room into the living room.  I was grateful that at least there, the blinds were pulled down.  She sat down on a large plush chair and pointed to the ground in front of her.  “This is where you are to kneel.”  I knelt next to her.  “Whenever you are in my presence, you are to be kneeling unless told otherwise.  If you are here in the home, you are to be naked.  Understand?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Good girl.  Now lay across my lap.”  She pulled on my leash and pulled me over her lap, so that I hung over both legs with my ass sticking up.  Her arm pinned me down tight against her legs and she said, “Now, you have failed to address me by my proper title three times.  This is your first day, so I will be gentle but I want you to know that I take obedience very seriously.  I’m going to spank you for each time you disrespected me and you are going to count them, understand.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She swung down hard and the smack loudly shattered the peaceful quiet of the room.  I jumped up and she held me down.  It hurt, worse than I expected.  She swung again and her hand hit so hard I knew there was going to be a big red handprint on me.  “That’s for not counting.”

“One!” I yelled, still struggling to get up.

She slapped my ass again.  “One what!”

“One Mistress!”  Her hand slipped between my legs and found my slit.  Her finger slid in and massaged it. 

“Good girl.  So that is one.  Two more to go…well, how wet you are!”  She removed her hand and struck again.

“Two Mistress!”

“Good girl.”  She swung again, this one hitting the hardest

“Three Mistress!”

Her hand went back down to my pussy, her fingers pulling apart my sex. “You are so wet.”  She rubbed the wetness around. “I really think you enjoyed that.  Did you enjoy your spanking, pet?”

I shook my head. Her hand quickly rose up and slapped my ass hard. Through the sting I could feel my wetness on her fingers.  I shouted, “No Mistress!”

She put her fingers back into my slit. “That’s better.” She began to massage me.  My excitement was already high, but when she pushed me tighter against her knees with her arm, it began to build. She sensed my proximity and shoved two fingers in me and held me tight. My pussy clenched down on her fingers as I came. She slowly pushed a third finger in and wiggled them. I bucked and cried out in ecstasy. When I finally came down, she wiped her fingers on my thigh and let me down. My legs were shaking and I bent down to kneel.

“No.  Go get your clothes on.  I don’t want your Aunt getting pissed at me.” She leaned down and pressed her lips against mine in a slow passionate kiss. I looked up and returned it, cherishing it.

My late return home was not noticed by Aunt Holly. Herb smiled and waved from the couch. I stopped by the fridge to pull out a soda.  Aunt Holly was working the bread baker to make some banana bread.  She smiled. “Before you start your homework, I want you to dust and sweep your room.  I dropped off your clothes down there this morning and it’s a mess. Try to vacuum that rug or beat the dust out of it outside.”

I looked at the clock. It was only 4 P.M. Without the internet I felt like I was being given five hours of purgatory. I knew that every minute until I went to bed would be an exercise in combating boredom. I sighed and took my stuff down to the basement. I hunted through the house and found the broom, mop, bucket, and feather duster. I closed and locked my basement door, plugged in the iPod to the speakers and started the task of dusting the room. Aunt Holly was right. The room was covered in dust and looked more like a basement than a livable room. I started by brushing away cobwebs in the ceiling corners, sending small spiders scurrying along the wall to safety.

I got into my own zone, cleaning my room, grooving along to the music. I had dusted and vacuum around the rug around my bed.  Then I moved to the broom and began to sweep around the room. As I got to the rug, I lifted it up to gather some of the dust under the rug. I worked my way around the oval, old and stained, Wal-Mart purchased rug until a section of the rug resisted being pulled up. I pulled up on it and saw that melted into the bottom was a nylon rope that was threaded through a hole in the floor. I stared at it. It didn’t make any sense. I knelt down and pulled at the rope.  It pulled out of the hole and then stopped, as if there was a knot at the other end.  I let some of the rope go back into the hole and I tried to peer down it around the slim space between the hole and the rope.  There was a faint cool breeze coming out of the hole.  I stood up and let the rug fall back down.  The rope attached to the bottom fell back into the hole.  I got up and turned off the music.  I ran upstairs and looked around for a flashlight, finding it under the sink. Herb glanced curiously at me from the couch, eyes focusing on my bouncing breast. I returned to my room, locked the door and knelt down again to the rug.  I lifted it and listened at the hole. I could feel the cool air on my ear.  The area around the hole wasn’t the full cement of the rest of the room.  It was something like plaster, painted almost the same color as the cement.  I turned on the flashlight and shone it down the hole.  I could see the rope and the knot and dirt, but the dirt was far below, a lot lower than I expected.  I was having trouble lining my eye up to the hole and shining the light down, but there was something wooden, several feet below me.  I knelt there, perplexed. “What the hell?”  I muttered.

I shot up and pushed back my bed and threw the rug over.  The rug flipped onto its back, still connected to the hole in the floor by that rope which was pulled taut at its maximum length. About three feet from the hole, there were vertical cuts into the cement, making a three foot by three foot square.  I grabbed an old elementary school ruler from my desk and pushed it into the cracks of the square and lifted up.  My suspicions were right.  It came up.  A lip attached to the floor kept it from falling down below.  The square cover was made of wood. I lifted it up to reveal a hole in the floor.  I put it aside and peered in with my flashlight.  An aluminum ladder was against the dirt wall, leading down about eight feet. The bottom of the rope hung against the ladder. I could see the bottom of the ladder but not much into what the room below opened up to. Wooden boards were along the walls making a five foot by five foot opening down below.  “Oh my God,” I whispered to myself. I stopped breathing and listened. At first I could just hear the TV upstairs, but then I heard it, the strange cave-like sound, and it was coming from below. 

Suddenly, it all came together. The rope was to pull down the rug so that it covered the floor door.  It was a secret door. A feeling of dread then enveloped me.  Was my mom down there, dead from an accidental spelunking tour? Why the hell was she spelunking in the basement? Why the hell didn’t the cops find this when they were snooping around the house after she disappeared?

For a dreadful second I thought that maybe I didn’t want to know what was down there. Maybe she was down there, hurt and now dead.  I had to find out. I put the flashlight in my pocket and put a foot down the ladder.  I tested the stability of it, slowing putting my weight on it and then put the other foot down. The ladder was stable. I slowly lowered the rest of myself in and climbed down the ladder.  At the bottom, I took out the flashlight and turned it on. There was a passage leading down at a steep slope.  The walls and ceilings were buttressed with wooden planks. The passage went down and turned a corner. I looked back up, marveling that I was looking up into my room…which was in the basement. I put the flashlight down on the ground and climbed back up the ladder. I grabbed the square door and noticed brass handles screwed into the bottom. I stepped down a few steps and put the door in place, darkening the tunnel. I pulled on the rope and could hear the rug sliding into place above me. I pulled it tight and saw the light disappear from the thin cracks between the planks. Anyone that then walked into my basement room wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary except that I would be gone, just like my mom was.

The flashlight was the only light. I picked it up and slowly walked down the shaft. If I wasn’t careful, my feet would slide on the steep dirt floor. A cobweb touched my face and I brushed it away, stifling a scream. I swung the flashlight around, looking for the tarantula sized spider that I knew was in my hair or shoulders. Nothing.  Just the strong smell of wet earth.

I reached the bend and the tunnel now opened up into a cave.  The walls were rock but the passage was now wider.  It still went down, curving, so I couldn’t see the end. I continued down, cautiously and scared. Finally it opened to a space that was wider than the rest. In the tunnel, something like water reflected light onto the wall. I could hear the noise now, the strange sound I’ve heard some nights.  I turned off my flashlight. There was enough light to see into the cave. I crept forward and looked in. My tunnel had opened up to a large cave. I was about 15 feet above the floor. A large pile of rocks was pushed up to my opening, so that I could crawl down to the bottom if I wanted. The cave was about 30 feet long and 20 feet wide.  A stream curved through the floor around stalagmites.  Lighting the room was what looked like a waterfall.  It was almost a cave opening that the stream ran into.  The waterfall covered the opening but instead of water, it was a glowing blue light that seemed to fall like water but disappeared into the floor.  It sparked bright blue lights and it made that hum that I heard once or twice late at night when I laid in my bed.  I glanced around the room, making sure it was empty.  I aimed my flashlight at the floor and could see footprints going from the rock pile to the waterfall.

I carefully scanned the room for other entrances or exits.  There were a few but they looked too small for a human.   Big enough for a scary, biting critters though.  After carefully looking over the room for animals, especially bats, I carefully climbed down the rock pile, taking a closer look at the footprints.  There were multiple ones and they looked like my Mom’s shoes and they all led to the blue light pouring down at the entrance of the cave.  I slowly approached the waterfall.  I didn’t dare to touch it but I could feel the cool air emitting from it.  I shined my light down at the stream.  It was only an inch or two deep and disappeared into the light.

I tried peering into the waterfall.  It was semi-translucent.  Behind it a tunnel seemed to go on a bit.  The noise it emitted was unnatural but not deafening.  It was a steady hum.  I took my flashlight and cautiously took it and touched it to the light.  The tip of the flashlight dipped into the blue light and vibrated in my hand while the tip melted and smoked.  I pulled it out and it fell from my hand, then bounced along the floor into the water.

“Fuck!” I shouted as I jumped back.  I picked the flashlight out of the water.  The end was melted together into one big plastic mess.  The on/off switch wouldn’t even move.  I looked up at the dark passage way that I came and sighed.  With the flashlight being ruined, I stepped a few stepped back and then tossed the flashlight into the blue light.  I could see it land about four feet from where the blue waterfall started.  The image was blurry but I could see the flashlight melt, smoke, and then when it looked like nothing more than a plastic pile poop, it caught fire and the smoke drifted out of the waterfall and into the cave.  The smell was horrific and I cringed my nose.  I stepped back to prevent myself from getting poisoned by the fumes.

I looked around and found a rock.  I took the rock and tossed it into the waterfall.  There was a little sparking but the rock landed, bounced, and then came to a standstill a couple feet past the beginning of the falls.  No explosive fire but then again, rocks don’t catch fire.  I stepped closer again and scooped up some water and threw it at the falls.  The light sparked and lit up but the water just fell on the ground on the other side.

  I looked down at the ground.  My footprints were mixed about with the old footprints but there still was no mistaking the fact that the footprints led right through the waterfall and beyond.

Suddenly I was afraid of the light from the waterfall suddenly flickering out.  If it did, I would be alone in the darkness.  I endeavored to go back and come with a camping lantern I knew I had stored away somewhere.  I climbed back up the rocks and headed back up the tunnel.  As the tunnel turned around as it went upward, the glow from the room disappeared and I was left in darkness.  I kept my hand along the wall, occasionally touching something cold and wet, and crept blindly up to the ladder.

It seemed to take me forever.  It was dark… darker than I’ve ever experienced.  I could close my eyes and see more light than when I kept them open.  There was a silence only broken by the white noise of the waterfall.  I paused and felt momentarily peaceful.  My life had become so dark.  That cocoon of darkness had enveloped me and through my sadness, it had excited me.  Then there was this cave and my discovery.  I knew that I had found something my mom had found and it was something special, something unlike anything ever seen before.

   My eyes were so accustomed to the pitch darkness, I was able to see the ladder from the dim light provided from the crack above it.  I stopped and said quiet thanks.  A few times my mind raced to the conclusion that I was headed down some side tunnel that I had missed and would be trapped in darkness forever.

Returning to my room I reset the rug and moved my bed back to its original space.  I noticed my shoes leaving dirt prints along the floor.  I took them off and swept up the dirt I left.  I grabbed my cleaning tools and headed upstairs in my socks.   I unlocked and opened the door.  Herb was standing there.  He smiled at me.  “How’s the cleaning doing?”

“What are you doing, spying on me?” I asked as I squeezed past him.  He made sure not to move so my breast pushed along his chest.

“I was knocking hard.  How come you didn’t come up?”

“I had my headphones on.  What did you want?”

“You had your music blaring and the headphones?” he asked.

I put the broom and pan into a closet.  “What did you want Herb?”

“I’m headed to Joe’s for some beer and pizza.  You want anything.”

I headed into the kitchen. “No thank you.”  I reached up and started opening cabinets, looking for that lantern.  Suddenly Herb was pushed up behind me, pushing me into the counter, his arms around my waist.  He leaned down and started kissing my neck.  His dirty goatee felt like a cactus rubbing against my skin. 

“What are you looking for?” He whispered into my ear.  My hands went down to try and pry them off.  He was strong, stronger than he looked.  His hand simply moved up to cup a breast and he pushed harder against me.  I could feel his cock, hard against his jeans, pushing against my ass.  I pulled against his arms.  Aunt Holly must have gone out.  His hand unbuckled my belt.  He moaned in my ear, and continued his whispering, sweet talking. “You are driving me wild.”  My hands couldn’t pull his hand off and he successfully unbuckled my belt.  His hand quickly unsnapped my pants.  I knew he was serious.  I wanted to drive my elbows back, hurt him bad but I felt like I was in danger.  With his lust I didn’t know what sort of harm he was capable of doing to me.  His hand pushed down my pants and down under my panties.  His finger pushed into me.  “Yesss,” he hissed.  “See, that does feel good.”

I was wet.  I couldn’t help it.  The most vile creature on Earth was pressing me up against the kitchen counter and it was making me wet.  I felt vile.

“Can I have some milk?” came a young, high pitched voice from behind us.

Herb spun around.  The Aunt Holly’s four year old girl was standing next to the kitchen.  Herb smiled, laughed, grabbed my wrist and said “Sure, just get some out of the fridge.”  He pulled me past the wide eyed girl and pulled me down into my basement room.  He nearly pushed me down the stairs and then turned around and locked the door.  I stumbled down the stairs, leaning against the wall to prevent falling head over heels down.  I stood dazed by my bed, now not only afraid of Herb but even more afraid that he might find my discovery.

He bounded down and laid me face down on the bed.  I stopped struggling.  If I gave him what he wanted, he wouldn’t notice the mud encrusted shoes or the tracks on the floor.  He laid down next to me and pulled down my pants and panties in one swift motion so that they were around my ankles.  Fear and revulsion kicked in.  I tried pushing up, yelling “stop it!”  I tried to pull my pants up.  He had already pulled his pants down and was lying on top of me.  He kicked my legs open and aimed his cock between my legs.  Before I could do anything, he pushed forward hard and slid into me.

He pushed all the way in and then slowly pulled out so that just his tip was inside me.  Then he slid in again.  “See, it feels good, doesn’t it?”  He was thrusting his cock in and out of me.  His hand pushed up under my shirt and bra and cupped my breast.  He was fucking me roughly, hard.  The bed was bouncing, his weight pinning me against the mattress.  I felt like I was caught in the grips of a python.  He lunged deep and held me tighter, groaning, and then relaxing, his whole weight falling on top of me. 

He slowly pulled out and stood up.  I looked at him.  He was squeezing his erect cock, the semen still coming out in a condom he was wearing.  I also noticed that he was completely shaved.  Not a single hair covered his cock or balls. He closed his eyes in pleasure as he squeezed his last drops off.  He opened them, looked at me with a slimy grin and then sat down on the bed.  His hand rubbed my back.  “It doesn’t always have to be like that.  It can be a lot nicer.”  I looked up and a shot of fear flickered across his face.  My face must have exposed my thoughts of hot pokers plowing into his eyes.  “Don’t say anything because no one will believe you.  I have needs Liz.  You go flaunting this hot body of yours and don’t expect me to get riled up.  I’m just a man.  And I know you have needs too.  You just have to trust me to help you.”

He pulled the condom off and tied it, then pulled up his pants and headed up the stairs.  I laid there, my pants wadded up around my knees.  I began to think the scenario through.  I would go to the cops.  I would go directly to Agent Mailhot who disliked Herb and trusted me.  Herb would go to jail for a long time.  Then I thought of the condom and it dawned on me that he wore it to try and keep evidence from pooling up inside of me.  Then they would pull me out of the house.  Make me leave before I figured out what the cave was all about and what it had to do with my mother’s disappearance.

I was on that bed for an hour, wallowing in my misery and my self-pity.  Finally, I slowly got up and changed into my pajamas.  I went back upstairs and continued my look for the lantern, finding it eventually in a shed in the back.  The battery was still good but I found one more flashlight that I brought down to my room as well.

I waited until everyone went to bed and then I moved my bed back and lifted the rug so that I could go back into the cave.  I also took a shovel, although I wasn’t sure why.  Perhaps to ward off the giant rats that were bound to make the cave their home at night.  Back in the cave, I was less nervous.  It had an air of familiarity now that the initial shock had worn off.  I sat on a rock and stared at the waterfall.  It was beautiful but unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It seemed like something nature had created but the noise was what was so unnatural. I looked around for a button, a switch, a rope to pull on…anything that could possibly used to divert the flow or turn it off. I banged the shovel against the cave wall.  I pulled out loose rocks.

I lifted the shovel and pushed the tip into the waterfall. The shovel vibrated but the metal did not melt.  I pulled it out and felt it.  It was a little warm but not hot. I tried again and pushed it in farther.  The shovel seemed fine but after about a minute, the wood began to smoke. I pulled it out and gingerly touched the wood. The wood was hot but the metal was just warm.

Then I did what was possibly the dumbest thing I have ever done… or the bravest. Something in my gut told me I was missing something. I lifted my hand and pushed my finger forward so that it entered the blue, glowing waterfall. I expected to be blown across the room or to singe the tip of my finger so bad I would have to dunk it into the water on the ground. Instead, my finger went in. There was a strange tingling sensation but it wasn’t hot. I hoped it wasn’t radioactive but I thought, if it was, it’s too late for me now. I pushed more fingers in. Nothing.  I pushed my hand in. I could see it through the blue light. I opened and closed my fingers. It didn’t feel like anything. I began to push my arm in.  When the sleeve of my pajamas touched the blue, it began to smoke and by the time I pulled my arm out, threads were catching on fire. I patted it out. I check the burned cloth and my skin. I wasn’t burned but the sleeve looked like it just got tossed in a fire.

I stepped back, looking at the light and thinking about what to do.  My sleeve was still smoking so I unbuttoned my top and took it off.  I stepped forward again, my heart pounding so hard in my chest that it sounded like deafening drums, echoing through the cave.  I raised my hand and slowly pushed my fingers in.  I held my breath and then pushed forward with my hand.  I followed with my arm.  I pulled it out.  My arm was fine.  I stepped back again.  I began to pace.  I walked around the cave, looking anxiously at the light.  Then I made my decision, I unhooked my belt and pulled down my pants, muttering my prayer, “This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy.”

It WAS crazy. What the fuck was I doing? I stood naked next to the falls, grabbed some strands of hair and jerked them out of my head. I held them in my hand and thrust them into the light. I held them there and then pulled them out.  They were fine.  Not even warm.  I took my foot and slowly slid it forward into the falls.  I could still feel the wet rock under my feet.  I slowly put an arm through.  It was just the tingling.  I closed my eyes, held my breath and leaned forward and pushed my head into the light.  The humming was loud now; I covered my ears to make it bearable.  My head was not catching on fire.  I slowly opened an eye.  There was no pain.  I opened it farther, then both eyes.  My vision was blurry; streaks of light were swimming around me.  I opened my mouth.  I couldn’t taste anything.  I breathed in…fresh air, just like the cave.  I exhaled and then pulled my head back out. I checked myself.  I was unharmed.  All the hair on my head was still there.  I could still see.  Was I radiated?  Was I going to die from cancer?  Something inside of me told me that I wouldn’t be.

  I stepped forward into the waterfall and was surrounded by the blue light. I laughed spontaneously and turned around. I was looking out into the cave. I felt ok. I looked down at myself and checked again for some adverse effects. My body looked like what it would look like under a black light, except for my tattoo. I bent my head as far down as I could to look at it. It seemed to be glowing red. I touched it and it felt warmer than the rest of my skin but it didn’t hurt.  I’m definitely getting radiated, I thought.  Was it too late to turn back?

I traced my tattoo for a moment with my finger, contemplating it and the meaning that this might have.  Then I focused on where this tunnel filled with light went to.  It had to go somewhere.  My mother went this way and didn’t come back.  What if I couldn’t go back? I slowly began to walk forward. If there was a chance of finding what happened to my mother, I had to take it. The tunnel was entirely consumed with the falling light, disappearing into the ground. It distorted the walls, made them look closer than what they were, like seeing something underwater.  The tunnel narrowed so that there was only about two feet between the walls. I was beginning to get claustrophobic but I pushed forward. The tunnel went forward about twenty more feet then the blue falls ended. I stepped out of it and found myself in another cave.   The song of the blue falls was overshadowed in this cave by the sound of a real waterfall, real water rushing down somewhere close.  The air was cooler and the smell of pine hit me.

I took in a deep breath.  It certainly didn’t have that brine smell of Portland.  I could hardly believe what I was looking at.  I was in a cave, smaller than on the other end.  The flickering light illuminated cave paintings like I’ve seen in stories about cave men.  Red outlines of hands, wolves, deer, and depictions of the sun.  The cave was lived in.  There were rocks that looked like they were arranged to contain a fire.  Furs of rabbit were sewn together and lying in a pile next to some broken pottery.  I looked back at the waterfall of light, suddenly anxious of the possibility that this was a one way tunnel.  I held up my hands and walked back into the light.

I survived again.  I stepped back out into the foreign cave.  I cautiously stepped forward, walking over to examine the fire pit.  If someone had lived there, it had been a long time ago.  I kicked the fur with my bare foot, making a face and hoping that something wouldn’t jump out of it.  The fur was barely holding together, the leather straps binding it falling apart as I turned it over with my toe.

I could feel a breeze coming from the opening of the cave and I moved towards it.  The cave narrowed and inclined upward to an opening.  It was there that I could hear and feel a waterfall covering the entrance of the cave.  It was dark and the opening had a ledge that allowed an entry to the cave behind the waterfall.  I kept close to the rock.  I could feel and hear more than see the torrent of water falling in front of me.  The ground was slippery with moss.  I could smell the cool air outside.  The danger of pushing out there at night was not lost on me, but I had to see where I was. 

The cave entrance was hidden behind a waterfall was in some sort of a valley.  I could see the dark outlines of pine trees.  Above was the brilliance of a sky full of stars not filtered by the lights of civilization.  It was only a patch of a sky I could see but the beauty of it and it took my breath away.    It was dark.  I was in the mountains somewhere.  Nothing like this existed in Portland.

I tried to let my eyes adjust to peer into the woods in front of me but it was dark.  There was no moon.  I could see silhouettes and stars but little more.  I thought that perhaps it was best I come back during the day.  There was no knowing what creatures were stirring out there.  I slowly worked my way back into the cave.

I sat down on a rock near the fire pit and thought about what I needed to do.  I wondered if my mother sat down on this rock. She could be nearby.  Maybe she needed help. This was some secret she had.  I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it was something wonderful.  I was grateful that whatever gut instinct told me to take the huge risk of walking into the light, butt naked, that it got through to me.  It was the bravest thing I had ever done.  I shivered.  Both from the cool night air and from the acknowledgment of the incredible risk I took.

Walking back through the tunnel of light was much easier.  I knew what lay at the other end.  On the other side, I gathered my clothes and headed back to my basement.  I closed the door and returned the carpet so that it covered it up.  I threw my clothes in a pile and put on my PJs.  I glanced at the clock.  It was still relatively early.  I went to sleep thinking about what to do next.   I needed to get down there during the day.  I would hide the carpet over the door; using the string, like my mother had done and I would explore. I would find my mother.

Liz and the Wolves of Shahala

By Rasputtin Szczepanski

Chapter  9

Another school day.  I thought about playing sick but fuck face Herb would be home.  I needed a way to avoid him.  Whatever I did, I needed to keep my secret from him because I knew he would ruin it.

My phone buzzed and I lifted it to glanced at it.  Ambrosia texted, “I can hardly wait to get my hands on you.”  I felt the butterflies in my stomach.  A simple text from her could trigger a sexual arousal that was unlike anything I have experienced up to that point.  I glanced up from my notes, seeing if anyone was noticing my cheeks burning.  The phone buzzed again.  “I am so fucking wet thinking about you.”  I turned off my phone and shoved it deep into my backpack.

The day was uneventful but unproductive.  I couldn’t keep my thoughts focused on anything.   I was over stimulated.  All I could think about was that cave.  After last period, there were a dozen of texts from Ambrosia.  She was expecting me to come over after school, even hoping that I could skip a few classes and come early.  I was torn.  I knew that mind blowing orgasms awaited me at Ambrosias but I needed to get to that cave in daylight.  I had to see where it went.

“Mistress, I’m very sick.  Cannot today,” I texted then turned off my phone, packed up my books and hurried home.

I hadn’t forgotten about Herb.  I had pushed thought of the danger he presented to me aside but I needed to ensure that I was safe in my room.  If I could get through the lock in the basement, I know he could.  Before going home, I took the bus to the Rite Aid and bought a plastic door stop that I could jam under the doorknob that would act as a second lock.

At home, I breathed a sigh of relief that Aunt Holly was home as well as Herb, who never left.  Herb would leave me alone. Aunt Holly seemed to be in a good mood despite my being an hour late coming home. I made a snack, made some light talk, trying to act as normal as possible. An inner clock was banging in my head. My stomach was in knots.  I had to get down to that cave before sunset, which always came very early in Maine.

I waited until Herb was in the bathroom, then I retreated to my room with a large shovel and a battery operated lantern.  I locked the door.  I placed the door stop into position so that no one could open the door.  I moved the rug back, opened the hatch and carefully climbed down the ladder with my lantern and shovel.  I pulled the rope to pull the rug back to the original position.

The cave was as I left it.  I quickly stripped down, turned off the lantern and placed it on the ground.  Grabbing the shovel, I stood in front of the blue, electric waterfall.  I had to be some sight, young, nude with nothing but a shovel, illuminated by blue tendrils of light and shadows.

I took a deep breath and then darted into the passage.  The wooden handle of the shovel quickly grew warm.  It was vibrating so hard it almost shook out of my hand and it was making a loud ringing sound, a high pitch that sounded like a child’s wail.  I ran through the passage and was able to come out the other side in less than 15 seconds.

I quickly dropped the shovel.  The wood was hot and where the wood met the steel it was smoking.  I stopped and leaned down, trying to catch my breath.  The cave looked like how I left it except there was a faint light at the tunnel leading to the entrance.  I smiled. I had made it.

I touched the shovel.  It was quickly cooling down.  I picked it up with the intent that I could use it as a weapon if needed.  I got up and moved to the opening of the cave.  As I started up the incline, I could see the waterfall.  Orange light was shining through it.  I scrambled quicker, pushing myself against the wall and moving close to the edge of the water.

I slowly peaked through.  The water was less thick on the edges.  The walls of the cave were covered with a green moss.  Outside was an explosion of green pine and mountain edges.  My mouth was open, gaping as I moved out more into the open, my mind not believing what I was seeing. 

The valley that my cave opened to was on the edge of a mountain.  The stream at the bottom of the waterfall, clamored noisily down the mountain, its sounds accompanied by the vast songs of birds in a forest.  The trees blocked most of my view.  The setting sun streamed through the branches.    What captured my vision though was the sky.  High above me, like a moon during the day, was a giant planet surrounded by thousands of rings like on Saturn.  The planet was a faint bluish orange, the rings white, like clouds. 

This had to be a dream.  It had to be.  I walked out farther.  I was on something that orbiting a gas giant.  This wasn’t Earth.  I turned and looked up the mountain.  It was rocky, but I could see a path I could climb where I might be able to see above the trees.  I glanced around uneasily.  I decided to make a rash, dangerous decision. The second one in the week.  I started to climb the mountain.  I would climb just enough, before it got dark so I could see above the trees.

  My mind was reeling with the information.  This is where my Mom was.  She had discovered another world.  She wasn’t gone.  She was here somewhere in here and I could find her.

I got to the top of the rocks where the stream plunged over them.   It was a steep incline and I was breathing hard from the exertion.  Glancing down to ensure no sharp objects would pierce my naked bottom, I sat down on a rock and looked above me.  The mountain continued upward and I was near the tree line where the mountain became steep rocks with snow topped caps.  Below me, I could just see over the trees.  I was in a mountain range.  There were smaller hills below me that stretched to the horizon.  The planet that filled the sky seemed even larger, filling a quarter of the sky.

The sun felt warm.  I knew this couldn’t be a moon around Saturn because the sun would never be this warm.  I was on a different planet.  Maybe another star perhaps.  Maybe it was a dream.  I wanted to go a little higher to see what was to the right and left of this area.  The ground was less steep where I had stopped.  I could go a little farther.  I got up and turned around.  A large wolf was looking at me from about fifteen feet away.  He looked as startled as I was.  His muscles were tense as if he was about to flee.  I stifled a scream.  The black wolf was larger than any wolf I have ever seen at any nature reserve.  It was about twice my size, almost the size of a Doberman.  I started to slowly back up, my muscles tensing, ready to flee if he decided to lunge.  I slowly held up the shovel with both hands, picking it up, readying it to club the beast when it jumped up to clamp it’s fangs into my throat.  I took a step back.

“Wait!”  I saw the mouth move on the wolf but I didn’t believe it.  I took another step back and quickly glanced around to see who said that.

“Please wait! You are a human?  Can you understand me?”  It was the wolf.  The wolf was talking.  Minutes must have passed as I stood there in shock.  He repeated and I could see the words come out of his mouth as he said it more slowly, “Can you understand me.”  I slowly nodded and the wolf started slowly coming towards me.

“Get back!” I yelled, my voice shaking, “or I’ll wack you.”

He stopped and looked concern. “I’m not going to hurt you! Please, don’t leave!”

“How can you talk?” I slowly asked.

“Talk?”  He made a shrugging motion with his shoulders “I don’t know.  The same way you can I suppose.  I never met a human before though.  I always wanted to.  I always thought you were a myth.”  His accent was odd, as if he was missing the letters b and m.  “But you are real.”

“A myth?”  Enough bizarre things were happening to me that I was beginning to absorb and believe a lot quicker.  “Wolves that talk eat girls where I come from.”

He shook his head, his look of concern deepening.  “No! No, I would never do that.  Please, I just want to get to know you.  Are you from around here?  Are there any others?”

I wanted to lie and say that there were many others but his voice sounded so friendly.  Despite everything, I liked him immediately and my fear was waning.  He sounded young and eager.

“Just me for now.  Are you from here?” I asked.  Again the voice in my head, you are going insane.

“I’m from down below.  I was up hunting when I smelled you.  I ran up here.  I never smelled anything like you before.  This is so wild!”  His tail was wagging.

“Are there others like you around?” I asked.

“Oh no.  I live on my own.  Long story.  Do you have a name?”

“They call me Liz.  What’s your name?”

“They call me Bunny.  Can I come closer?  I won’t hurt you if you promise not to hurt me.”

I sat down and laid the shovel next to me. “Ok.” He slowly walked toward me and then sat down.  It seemed like he was worried that he would frighten me.  He was still wagging his tail but it stopped when his eyes focused in on my chest.

“Oh…wow,” he muttered, staring at my breast.

I felt self-conscious of them and covered them up.  “I couldn’t wear my clothes here.”

“That symbol.  Why is it on your chest?  Is that a birth mark?”

“Oh.  It’s a tattoo.  It’s something my mother had.”

“I’ve seen it before.  Why is it on your skin?”

“You seen this before! Where?”

“Mamsel-abika wears it around his neck.”  He looked up at me “He’s the leader of my tribe.”

“A wolf like you?”

Bunny nodded and spoke excitedly “I think it’s called the Cintamani.  It’s magic.  I mean, it gives him powers I think. Do you have magic powers?  I can do a little magic but I don’t have one of those.”

I whispered, almost to myself “It’s a gem.  The gem gives you the powers…”

Bunny cocked his head “What’s a gem?”

“Uh, it’s a beautiful stone, like glass but it can’t break.  The Cintamani is a gem. “ I pointed to my tattoo “This is just a symbol.  This…what was his name, your leader?”

“Mamsel-abika.”

“Can you take me to him?” I asked.

Bunny’s ears flattened on his head.  “That wouldn’t be a good idea.  He is very far away.”

“I need to know where he got the necklace.  Do you know?”

“He’s always had it as long as I’ve known but listen, this is not a good idea. I was always scared of him, even as a pup.  He’s very dangerous.”

“How far away is he?”

“Maybe a week’s travel.”

“If I come back, can you take me?”

He whimpered, “I don’t think so.  It’s…dangerous for me.”

I grabbed my shovel and smiled “I will protect you.”

This caused him to wag his tail “What is that thing?”

“It’s a shovel.  I can dig with it or hit wolves on the head with it,” I said, demonstrating in the air how I could use it as a weapon.

“Mamsel gets his power not only from magic but from sheer numbers of his followers.  You could maybe hit one, but not many.”

“I just want to ask him where he got it,” I said “You could vouch for me and say that I’m your friend.  It’s important.”

This caused him to wag his tail more, his eyes sparkling. “Oh.  This is very awesome.”  He took a deep breath in.  “They don’t like me though.  I’m not welcome there.”

“Why? Are you bad?” I asked.

“Maybe to them.  I don’t think so.  I was banished from the tribe so I live on my own.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“It’s more what I didn’t do.  I wasn’t up to putting up with their rules and foolishness.  They follow Mamsel without question.  Those that question get killed or banished.  Besides, I like it better on my own.”

I sighed and said, “I know that feeling.”  I gave up solving the problem of my missing mother for a moment.   I put the shovel down.  “I want to stay all night talking to you but I need to get back.  I will come back tomorrow though.”

Bunny cocked his head “Where will you go?”

“Home,” I relied.

“Is it far?” he asked.

I thought to myself, It is far…far away…and that feels kind of nice.  I perked up and said, “It’s hard for me to describe. Oh! Let me show you.”  I got up and pointed down the mountain.  “It’s at the base of the waterfall.”

“O.k.  Although I don’t remember seeing a human place around here.”

“I have to show you.  It’s a secret place.”  I led him down the step rocks.  I went slower to allow the large wolf to navigate in a switchback pattern down the hill.  It took about an hour to get down and it was then that I noticed that the sun had risen.  The orange glow of what I thought was sunset was gone.

I showed him the passage behind the waterfall.  His ears were down on his head and his tail was tucked between his legs.  I could tell he was scared.  His mood went switched to amazed when he saw the glimmering blue passage to my world.

“What is that?” he whispered in awe.

“To be honest, I don’t know.  It leads to my house.  I think I’m from a different world.”  Bunny began to walk around the cave, looking at the fire pit and painted hand prints on the wall.

“Humans have been here before, a long time ago,” he said.

“Can you smell them?”  I asked

He raised his snout into the air.  “No.”

“My mother came through here.  You can’t smell anything?”

“Just you.   You came through that blue thing?” he asked.

“Yes.  I didn’t know where it went.  I just discovered it.  Do you want to see the other side?”

Bunny looked concern again, thinking about it.  Then he whispered “Yes…I’m scared that if you go in, you won’t come back.”

“Oh, I’ll come back,” I said.  As sure as it rains in Maine, I was coming back. “I love this place.  Come in with me though.  There is a warm cave on the other side.  I’ll bring you some food and you can wait for me a day… if you want?”

He nodded.  I leaned my shovel against the wall and walked to the portal.  I looked behind at him, smiling to encourage him.  Then I stepped in.  I walked forward and looked back.  Bunny tentatively put his paw forward into the light, then slowly put his head in.  His fur stood straight out.  He took a couple of steps more until he was all the way in.  I laughed and said, “Look at your fur!”

He glanced at his tail which was puffed out about twice the side and he laughed.

The thin brightly lit passage was now familiar to me.  There was no fear anymore but a high, an exciting feeling of wonder.  I checked behind me to make sure Bunny was ok.  He was having trouble squeezing through some of the tighter spaces but he was bravely forging ahead.

I exited into my cave and Bunny followed behind me, splashing into the water.  I looked at him and said, “Welcome to my world!”  I grabbed my clothing and started to put it on.

He looked behind us.  “That is some strong magic.”  He turned back and sniffed at my clothing “What is that you are doing?” he asked.

I pulled the shirt over my head.  “These are my clothes.  For some reason I can’t bring it through the…gate.  I guess it’s a gate of some type.”

“They look funny.”  He walked over to the lantern and sniffed at it. “What’s this?”

I quickly slipped my shoes on. “It’s a lantern, a light.”  I tied my shoe and walked over to it and turned it on. 

Bunny’s eyes opened wide.  “Whoa!  More magic?”

“Science.”  I held it up.  “You can’t come with me.  They are not used to talking animals here.  I’ll bring you some food, then I’ll go get some sleep.  I’ll bring your something in the morning and then I need to go to school.  You can go back through the gate if you want.”

“I’m not an animal,” he declared.

“What?” I said.

“I’m Molsem,” he corrected.

“Well, wolves don’t talk here and they aren’t as big as you I think.”

Bunny sat down. “I’ll wait here.”

I started up to my room, stopped and turned around “Bunny, I’m really glad I met you.  I mean, really glad.  This is the coolest thing ever to happen to me.”

Bunny smiled and laid down.  “Coolest?”

I looked behind me “The best thing that has happened to me.”

Returning to my room, I was grateful that it was undisturbed.  I covered the door and went upstairs.  The sun shining through the window startled me.  I had been gone at least two hours and it should have been dark by then.  Aunt Holly was in the kitchen still and Herb was in the living room, just as I had left them.  I walked into the kitchen and looked at the clock.  It was only 4 PM.  I got out of school at 3:30.

I pushed that confusing thought to the side and focused on something to eat for Bunny.  What would a wolf eat, I thought to myself.  Young, naked girls no doubt but Bunny didn’t seem like he was capable of that.  What did I know though?  I’ve trusted online predators and had been enslaved by my tattoo artist.  It’s not that I misjudged people; it was that I put myself in bad situations.

Aunt Holly was molding some raw beef into hamburger patties.  That is probably what Bunny would eat, I thought.  I couldn’t grab raw meat and take it down to my room though.  I needed a snack that wouldn’t raise suspicions.  I looked through the refrigerator, eyeing fruits and vegetables.  Holly turned to me, “We’ll be eating soon.”

I looked around the kitchen and settled on a bag of pizza flavored Doritos.  I grabbed them and darted back to my room.   I closed the door, locked it and went to my rug.  I kicked it back so that the door was uncovered and reached down to pull the door open.  Someone knocked on the basement door above me.  The handle turned and then rattled as the person on the other side realized that the door was locked.

I threw the chips on the bed and pulled the rug back over the floor door.  As I ran up the stairs the knocking grew louder.  I unlocked the door and opened it.  Aunt Holly stood there with Ambrosia.

“What are you doing down there Liz?” Aunt Holly complained.  “Your friend is here.”

Ambrosia had the wicked look on her face.  “Hello Liz.”  She stepped down into my room, brushing me as she passed.  Aunt Holly went back to the kitchen.  The constant steady noise of children rushed into my room.  I closed the door and locked it.

I walked down the stairs towards her.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see if my girl was ok.”  She leaned back against my desk.  “Interesting place you live in here.”

I stood at the base of the stairs, unsure where to move to.  “I’m feeling better now.  Still a little queasy.   How did you…find me?”

She crossed her arms.  “I know everything about you.”

I frowned. “This is my study time.  I’m not supposed to have friends over.”

She walked toward me and grabbed my arm.  Her hand shot up and she grabbed my nipple through my shirt.  “I’m not your friend.  Or did you forget that?”

I twisted, trying to get away.  “Ow!” I cried.  She twisted it harder and I blurted, “No Mistress! Sorry!”

She pushed me down on the bed, still twisting my nipple through my shirt.  She got up on top of me, pushing me back, her legs straddling my waist.  “Good girl.  Remember, you belong to me and I don’t like it when you lie to me.”

My nipple burned.  She wouldn’t let go.  I grabbed her arm, trying to pry her off of me.  “Please, you’re hurting me!”  She let go of my nipple and pinned both my arms back over my head.

“You need a lot of training my pet and I can’t train you if I don’t see you.”  I stopped struggling.  I didn’t try to get away, I knew that I couldn’t.  She leaned down and rested on top of me.  She kisses my lips softly.  “Who owns you baby?”

I whispered “You do.” 

“You love me don’t you?”  She kissed my lips again.

I don’t know if it was love but I was excited and quivering under her.  “Yes Mistress.”

“Do you know how excited you have made me girl?”

I shook my head.  She kissed my neck.  “I’m very excited. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

“I can’t.  Please, my aunt is upstairs.”

“The door is locked.”  She jumped off of me and untied her boots, kicked them off.  I sat up.  She grabbed my arm and pulled me to the floor. “Kneel!”

I kneeled as she pulled off her jeans and panties.  She leaned back on the bed, spread her legs and pulled me between them.  Her hand pushed my head between her legs.  I was well familiar with her bald pussy now. I ran my tongue down the tattoo and licked lips, then pushed my tongue between them.  She was turned on and I tasted her warm wetness.  She held me tight as I began to work my tongue up and down.

She reached down and cupped my breast through the shirt as her other hand held my head steady.  She moaned and spread her legs farther.  I ran my tongue up and down her slit, moving around her sensitive clit when I got to the top.  I sucked her lips into my mouth.  It didn’t take long for her grip on my head to grow stronger and her belly rose and fell quicker.  As she came, she pushed my mouth into her and clamped her legs around my head.  I couldn’t breathe.  The world was quiet as her thighs covered bother my ears.  As she recovered, through deep breathes, she said “You are getting very good at that.”  She pushed me away and swung her leg over me.  She grabbed her panties and slipped them on.  “I want you to figure out a way to come to my house tonight. “

I remained kneeling. “I can’t.  I have to stay here.”

She put on her pants and said “You will.  You are already going to get punished.  Do you want it worse?”

“No Mistress but . . .”

“This is an order.  You really don’t want to know how much worse I can get.  Never mind, I think you do want to know.  That is why you defy me all the time.” She put on her boots.  “I should keep you in a cage.  Remind you of who you are.”

She was taking this too far.  “I have homework to do.”

“Then do it and then come over.  I’ll be waiting for you.” She got up, kissed me on the forehead and left.

I was left alone, kneeling next to my bed. I lowered my head onto the mattress and muttered, “Fuck.”  The crazy thing was that I really wanted to go.

Continuing with my original plan, I returned to my secret cave carrying my chips.  Bunny was there, lying on a dry patch of ground.  He lifted his head and wagged his tail as I appeared at the cave opening above.

I crawled down the rocks. “I couldn’t get you anything good.  I hope you like these.  I might be able to get you something better when my Aunt goes to bed.”  I opened the bag too hard.  The bag broke and chips scattered all over the ground.

Bunny sniffed at them.  “What’s that?” he asked.

“Doritos.  Pizza flavored.”  I picked one off the ground and ate it. 

Bunny sniffed at them curiously then chomped down on one.  He chewed it, swallowed and said “What an interesting taste.  I’ve never tasted anything like it!”  He started to eat the chips, one at a time.  The loud crunching sound reverberated through the cavern.

“I need to go for the night,” I said.  “I’ll be back in the morning.”

With a mouth full of chips, Bunny said, “Where are you going to go?”

I pointed up.  “My house is up there.  I’m going to sleep.”

“Can I see?” he asked.

“I can’t.  Not right now.”

Bunny ate some more chips, sucking them down like he was a vacuum cleaner.  I waved and climbed up the rocks and went back to my room.

Aunt Holly was finishing up dinner.  I could have either waited for them to go to bed or try and talk my way out of the house.  Both Herb and Aunt Holly went to bed relatively late so I tried my later plan.  I politely asked if I could go to a friend’s house to study and to my surprise, Aunt Holly consented.  I told her I would eat later when I came back, packed up some books in a backpack and walked to Ambrosia’s house.

Ambrosia was pleased to see me and ordered me naked immediately.  She was dressed in all leather; pants and a corset which pushed her breast up to make an impressive cleavage.  She gave me a soft kiss, put on my collar, tied a leash to the collar and led me into her basement.

Her basement was comfortable and warm.  Carpeted, a man-cave of sorts with a couch and a computer desk.  A flat-screen TV was sitting on a cheap stand against the wall.  She took me to the center of the room and told me to kneel.  I knelt down, my heart pounding, my excitement building.  She rummaged through some drawers and brought some nylon rope to me.  “Hold up your hands,” she told me.  I held them up.  She twisted the rope around them and tied them together.  Her knot tying skills were impressive.  “Now stand.”  I stood and she took the rope and slung it through a pulley hanging from a wooden beam on the ceiling.  She pulled the rope through it until my arms were high over my head, then she tied the rope to a peg on the wall.

She smiled and walked up close to me.  Her hands roamed my body, starting at my belly and moving up to cup my breast.  “Mmmmmm,” she murmured, devouring my body with her eyes.  Her hand slid down and cupped my sex.  Her finger pushed into me. “See, I knew you wanted to come over.”  Her finger wiggled between my lips. “I don’t know why you deny what your body wants to badly.”  She kissed my neck softly.

She stepped away and sat down in front of the computer.  She logged onto Yahoo.  I watched her and felt fear grip me as she logged on using my name.  She looked over her shoulder at me, “What’s your password?”

“Why do you want that?  Don’t you have your own log-in name?”

“No, I want to log in as you.  What’s your password?”

I remained silent.  She smiled and turned back to the computer.  I could see myself hanging there naked on her screen.  She had turned on the webcam.  She stood up and picked up a leather flogger from her desk. She sauntered towards me.  She walked around me, letting the leather straps hang over my shoulder.  “You know you are going to give me your password.” She pulled on the flogger so the straps caressed my skin as it lifted up.  “Or perhaps punishment for not obeying me is something you crave?”  She placed her hand on my belly and let it slowly drop to my sex.  She fingered me again.  “I can tell, you do crave it.  I am so lucky.”  She wiggled her finger.  “I have found a true slave, who knows her place, who seeks to be punished, abuse.”

As she whispered those words into my ear, I thought I was going to cum right there on her finger.  She wiggled her finger between my pussy lips and licked my neck.  She stepped back and lightly swung the flogger across my breast.  I jumped.  It hurt more than I expected and she didn’t even swing it that hard.  “What’s the password?”  I didn’t say anything.  She swung again, this time harder and it made a snapping sound as the leather whipped onto my soft flesh.  I yelled out in pain and surprise.  “What’s the password?”

I couldn’t respond, I wouldn’t.   “Well, I can’t have you disturbing the neighbors.”  She reached down into a drawer and brought out a bright red rubber ball with straps attached to both sides of it.  She grabbed my chin hard so that my mouth opened and she shoved the ball into my mouth.  The straps were wrapped around my head and then tied shut.

She brought the flogger down across my breast again and I screamed into the ball.  She did it again, this time hitting my stomach.  I jerked and screamed.  She aimed at my pussy, the leather straps marking me all over my inner thighs.  I cried out.   Tears were running down my eyes.  I yelled into the ball and it came out as “mewp, mewp! Eyell el you!”

She cracked the flogger one last time making me squeal and then stepped forward to unstrap my ball gag.  She slowly pulled it out of my mouth.   She sat down at the computer.  “Ok then,” she said, her fingers on the keyboard.

I told her the password.  For a moment I thought I wouldn’t remember.  I knew it more by the movement of my fingers, reciting it was more difficult.  Filling me with relief, I saw Yahoo log in.  SlaveTrainer2010’s name was lit up.  He was on.  I could see Ambrosia smile.  She slowly got up and walked behind me.  Her hands snaked up around my belly and up to my breast.  Her hot breath was breathing on my neck.  She cupped my breast and squeezed them softly.  I couldn’t keep my eyes off the screen.  I knew SlaveTrainer2010 was going to contact me.

Ambrosia took my nipples and slightly squeezed them.  She whispered in my ear “I love your nipples.  So thick.”

SlaveTrainer2010 dialogue text box sprung up. “Hello girl.”  A request to view the webcam came up.  Ambrosia squeezed one nipple with one hand and the other went back down to play with my pussy.  She whispered in my ear “Should I let him see the webcam?”

“No, please,” was my first instinct and response.

“You were his slave.  Is this how rude you are going to be to me someday?”

“That…that was different.  I was just exploring online,” I struggled to explain.

Ambrosia clicked “Yes.”  An image of myself naked, hanging with my wrist tied above me showed up in the chat window.  SlaveTrainer2010’s image appeared below mine.  He looked surprised.  Then he smiled.  I could feel my cheeks burning in embarrassment. 

I muttered “oh my God” and closed my eyes. 

His voice came over the small speakers to either side of the computer.  “Well, little one, I see someone has taken you as their own.”  I heard some movement behind the computer and I opened one eye to see Ambrosia taking a leather hood out of a drawer.  She pulled her hair back and put it over her head.  The hood had an opening for her eyes, two holes for her nose and a zipper for the mouth.  She pulled the hood tight and looped it closed in the back. She unzipped the zipper so you could see her mouth.  “How do you feel,” he asked.

Ambrosia walked behind me and cupped my breast.  She looked over my shoulder and smiled at the camera. 

SlaveTrainer2010 said “Ahh, I see it is a Mistress that has taken you for her own.”

Ambrosia gripped my breast tighter and kissed my neck.  She said “I’m her owner now.  Is there anything you would like to see me do to her?”

“Oh no!” I almost said it out loud but I kept it in my head

I looked at the screen.  I could see SlaveTrainer2010’s arm moving.  He was stroking himself.  “Well,” he stuttered.  She had really thrown him off.  “Do you have…do you have any nipple clamps?”

Ambrosia took my nipple with it and played with it.   “Actually, I do.  You want them on her nipples?”  I had seen enough kinky videos online to know what was going to happened next.  I tried not to whimper but inside I was frantic in trying to figure out how to stop this humiliating series of events that were being played out.

“Please,” SlaveTrainer2010 responded.  Ambrosia went to her drawer of toys and returned with two silver nipple clamps.  Ambrosia flicked one of my nipples a few times, watching it swell and then took the steel clip and attached it.  She turned a knob on it, tightening it.  I squirmed in pain, whispering “ow!”  She repeated with the other nipple.  I gritted my teeth, trying to make it through the pain.  Ambrosia cupped my breast, showing them to the webcam.  “How is that?”

SlaveTrainer2010 was breathing hard.  “Yes…good.  Do you have any weights?  Have you been training her to receive pain?”

“Oh, we worked on it a bit.  Still a work in progress though.”  She patted my face cheerfully and went to her drawer of horrors and pulled out two fishing weights.  I closed my eyes, resigned that I was to be their plaything for the immediate future.   She attached a weight to each nipple clamp.  “I’m looking forward to piercing these,” she said.  The weights pulled painfully down on the clips.  She walked behind me, her hands trailing on my naked skin.  She slipped a finger between my legs, into my slit and over my clit.  I moaned and suddenly came.  I cried out and bend my knees, starting to swing from the rope above me.  My pussy clenched and unclenched onto nothingness, my body desperate for something to be inside of me.  Ambrosia quickly pushed two fingers into me so she could feel the strong muscles clamp down on her fingers in euphoric spasms.  She looked at the camera as I came “See.  She already loves it.”

“Do you train her to cum without asking for permission?” SlaveTrainer2010 asked.

Ambrosia kept her finger in me, slowly wiggling it to tease the most out of my orgasm.  “Of course not,” she said.

“Then you are going to punish her?” he asked.

“We are going to punish her,” Ambrosia said, slowly removing her fingers from my still twitching pussy.  She looked at the computer.  “What do you think her punishment should be?”

“Cumming without permission is pretty severe.  Since she can’t control her pussy, do you have something to slap her pussy with, maybe 10 times?”

“Hmmm.”  Ambrosia walked to a floor locker and opened it.  She pulled out a leather strap connected to a black handle.  She walked to me and said, “Spread your legs.”

I obeyed.  I knew what was coming next, yet I obeyed, hoping that my obedience would end this sooner.  She stood to the side, aimed the strap and said, “I want you to count each stroke.  There will be ten strokes.”

I nodded, “Yes, Mistress.”  She swung the strap up between my legs and it made a loud wet slapping sound.  “ONE! Mistress!”  She continued to swing, with me counting each step of the way.  By ten, I was a quivering mess.  I couldn’t even count and I was crying.  Through the fog of pain I could hear SlaveTrainer2010 moan as he came.

I couldn’t wipe my eyes so I kept them closed.  Ambrosia had stepped off camera and strapped on her rubber cock.  She lowered the rope so I was bent over, tied it off again and kicked my legs open.  I felt her rubbing the rubber cock up and down my slit before slowly pushing into me.  The toy was too big and it hurt slightly going in.  She nudged it forward, wiggling it until it was all the way in and then slowly pulled it out.  She began to fuck me in rhythm. She liked to fuck me with a grinding motion, pushing the toy against her swollen clit.   Her hands gripped me painfully on my hips, turning the white skin red where the fingers dug into me.  My breasts were hanging below me now, swinging painfully with the weights attached to my nipples.

“Do you like that girl?” she asked as she ground the strap-on deep into me.

My excitement was building again.  I sucked in air to answer. “Yes Mistress!”

“Are you going to ask permission to cum this time?”

My breast swung like heavy pendulums with the weights attached, sending confusing signals through my body.  The pain was almost unbearable and I wanted to beg to have her take them off.  I also wanted to beg to cum a second time.  My pussy was super sensitive from cumming so early.  I cried out, a pathetic wail.  I felt her lean into me, grinding hard.  I could sense that she was reaching her own orgasm.  She moaned and then let go of my waist.  She ran her hands up and down my back, and then up to my shoulders, massaging them as her orgasm subsided.

Finally she slowly pulled out then walked around in front of me.  She unstrapped the cock and took it off the leather straps.  She held it up in front of my mouth.  “Open!” she ordered.  I opened my mouth and she pushed it in.  “Now close it.  Don’t let it fall out, bite it if you have to.”

I closed my lips over it and found that I had to bite into it to keep it from falling out.  Suddenly a sharp pain blasted through my nipple.  She had released the nipple clamp and the weight went crashing to the floor.  The blood flowing into my nipple caused it to hurt more than when the clamp was first put on.  I bit down and cried out, my scream muffled by a rubber cock.  She undid the other one and then softly caressed my breast with her hands.

SlaveTrainer2010 was still watching, occasionally typing something into his computer, chatting with someone else perhaps.  The thought of him taping this and posting it online quickly crossed my mind.  There was nothing to stop him from doing it.  The release of this would be a hundreds time worse than the photo of me and my bare breast.  Inwardly, I chastised myself for my poor judgment.  Ambrosia turned to her computer and said “Goodbye Slave Trainer,” and then turned off Yahoo.

After she released me, she held my hand and led me to her bed where she kissed and caressed me.  She whispered how she wished that I could live with her and how she wanted me all the time.  As it grew later I began to fall asleep but then  woke up, knowing that I needed to go home if I didn’t want to be restricted to the house for the rest of my high school career.  I made my apologies and convinced her that I had to go.  She was asleep by the time I put all my clothes on and left her house.

       I returned to the house late.  I was exhausted, mentally and physically.  Too tired to check on Bunny, I fell asleep almost immediately after glancing at my clock.  It was 2 A.M.   Waking up at 6 A.M was not easy.  I groggily made breakfast but since I was alone, I made it for two.  I cooked Bunny up a plate of scrambled eggs and turkey bacon.

       Bunny was climbing up the tunnel as I headed down to him, startling me.  “Hey! You scared me.  What are you doing?” I yelled.

       Bunny backed up. “I’m sorry, I got worried.  It was so long.  I tried to go back through the tunnel but I couldn’t.”  A twinge of fear flowed through me.  Did the portal close?

       I walked with Bunny down to the cave.  The light was still strong over the tunnel. “What do you mean?  You tried to go through the blue tunnel?” I asked.

       “I tried but it was like there was a wall.  I couldn’t walk through.”  He was sniffing the air while he talked. 

       I put the plate down.  “Your breakfast.  Scrambled eggs and bacon.”  He went to it, sniffed it and then started to scoop the eggs up into his mouth.  I walked up to the tunnel.  It looked like it did before.  I put my arm through and besides the normal feel of static electricity, there was no wall. 

       Bunny was ferociously attacking the plate with food falling out of his mouth.  “Oh wow! This is really good.  These are eggs? Bird eggs? These don’t look like any eggs I’ve seen.” 

       I started to take off my clothes.  “I broke them up and cooked them.  No shell.  That’s the inside of the egg, from a chicken.”  Once naked I slowly walked into the tunnel.  Nothing was stopping me.  I walked through until I got to the other side.  The same dark cave was there.  I came back and poked my head out into the cave. Bunny had finished his meal, licking the plate clean.  “You can’t go through this?” I asked.

       “I couldn’t this morning.”  He got up and tried to come in.  This time there was no problem.  The two of us walked over to his side of the tunnel.  “Weird,” he said.  “I swear it was like if there was no tunnel.”

       “Well, it seems to be working now.  I need to go to school.  I’ll be back in a few hours.  Better you stay on this side in case it closes again.”

       “How long are a few hours?” he asked

       “Not long,” I reassured him. “I am coming back.  I’m going to find my mother.”

       This seemed to reassure him a bit but his tail and ears still hung low.  I reached out and petted his head.  He cocked it as if inquiring what I was doing but as I rubbed the back of his head, his ears perked up and his tail began to switch.  “I’ll be back!” I said before I ducked back into the tunnel and returned to my room.

       I went to school.  Ambrosia texted me throughout the day.  With her continuous stream of lust for me and the other world that existed below my room, I couldn’t focus on anything the teacher was saying.  Everything was a great big failed reality check.  I thought, maybe I was in a coma and this was some sort of illusion.  Maybe, I was really going crazy.

       I thought about the portal.  Clothing would burn but Bunny’s fur didn’t.  Then I remembered the odd leather that my mom had purchased.  I hadn’t seen them around for awhile.  Mom had a big leather jacket, which was gone too.  She must have taken them through the portal.  So leather might work.    I had a pair of Jesus shoes.  It was mostly leather, although it was soft and the bottom had a rubber heal.  Maybe that would work.  Then I would have shoes.  If the shoes worked, I could buy more leather clothing.  But with what money?  I could take Ambrosias.  Or maybe I could borrow it.  I would have to come up with a good story though because Ambrosia was quick to sniff out lies.

       My phone buzzed in my backpack.  The teacher warned all of us that if he found that phone, he would confiscate it.  Between classes I checked the phone and it confirmed that it was again, Ambrosia.  She wanted me to go out with her to a dance club that evening.  I quickly texted that I couldn’t and she responded that she knew I could.  I sighed and thought that at least it was a Friday.  I could go visit Bunny, then come back go hang with Ambrosia, then go back through the portal again.  I would also have all weekend.  I found myself nodding off in several of the classes so I knew that I would need to catch up on sleep somewhere in the mist of all of that.

       When I got home I saw that Aunt Holly’s car was gone.  That was a bad sign.  Herb was in the living room smoking from a glass pipe.  He looked up, hiding his pipe, surprised when he saw me.  When he recognized me, he smiled and put the pipe down.

       Going straight to the basement door, I flew through and locked it behind me.  I was down the stairs by the time Herb was twisting the knob trying to open it.  He knocked, “Hey honey, unlock the door.”  He tried the doorknob again and knocked louder and angrier.  I grabbed the door stop and rushed up the stairs to jamb it under the knob.  “You aren’t even going to say hi to me?”

       I slowly backed down the stairs, watching the door. The rattling continued a few seconds more then stopped. “You know, you are not supposed to lock this door,” he yelled. I sat down on my bed, set the alarm for an hour and laid down. I watched the door.  After a few moments I could hear the doorknob being fiddled with and then the lock clicking open.  I watched from my bed.  The doorknob turned slowly and then the door pushed out a half inch then stopped.  Herb pushed the door harder but the door stop held.  I held my breath.  There was silence and then a loud bang as Herb kicked at the door.  His frustration was apparent as he kicked and slammed the door repeatedly.  The door was a good solid door, maybe as old as the house.   It held.  Another moment of silence.  I could see Herb trying to force his hand through the crack, trying to dislodge the door stop.  The crack wasn’t big enough for him to get his whole hand through.  The fingers disappeared, then one last loud bang and Herb pushed his face to the crack and yelled “Fuck you!”

       Silence filled the house again and then I audibly followed his footsteps as he retreated to the living room.  I laid back and closed my eyes.  The emotion began to pour out of me as I cried on my bed.  As I thought of what my life had become and how much I missed my mom, then I fell asleep.

       The buzzing of my cellphone woke me up.  I pulled it out of my backpack and looked at it.  It was Ambrosia asking “What time are you going to be here?” The clock on my phone said it was 6 p.m.  I had slept almost three hours.  I texted back, “I’m on my way.”  Bunny was going to have to wait a few more hours.

       I walked to Ambrosia’s in the dark.  The trees were all bare but tiny buds were starting to form on the end of the branches.  It was still cold and the city lights reflected off the low hanging clouds that seemed to reach down and dampen everything outside.

       Ambrosia had a hint of smile on her face as she answered the door.  She kissed me on the lips and said, “You can’t wear that.”

       I somehow knew that my L.L. Bean look wasn’t going to pass muster with her.  “What type of club are we going to?”

       Ambrosia held the glass door that replaces screen doors in Maine in the winter.   I walked through into her place and took off my boots, leaving them on a dirty mat by the door.  “It’s an alternative, underground club,” she said as she closed the door behind me.

       We walked into the kitchen.  “Maybe I can wear some of your leather.”

       Ambrosia thought it over, leaning back on the counter in her kitchen, looking at me.  “Maybe.  Take off your clothes and let’s figure it out.”

       “Yes Mistress,” I said, and found myself already getting excited.  I removed my clothes and Ambrosia went to her bedroom to scavenge for some clothes.  She returned with a handful of items, some which looked like leather.  I stood naked in front of her.  I had grown accustomed to not having clothes on around her.

       “Kneel,” she ordered.  I carefully got down on my knees.  I could see the lust glowing from her eyes, a familiar look that she had when she saw me nude.  She threw me my collar. “Put it on.  I thought I told you I wanted you to wear this all the time?”

       I held it, looking at it.  “Don’t make me wear this to the club,” I said softly.

       “You want some punishment before we leave, don’t you?”

       “No Mistress.  I…I can’t wear this.  People will think things about me.  It’s already bad enough.”  I looked up at her, hoping my pleading eyes might make her change her mind.

       Her face was stern.  “Put it on!” She yelled.  Then she added more gently, “It won’t be out of place where we are going.”

       I frowned and did as she said.  She walked up to me and put a small brass lock on the collar.  The click of it sounded to me like the click of a prison cell shutting.  I sagged my shoulders.  She walked into the living room.  “Come,” she barked at me.  I started to get up but then remembered that she wanted me to crawl.  I crawled after her and followed her into the bedroom.

       Ambrosia pulled out a ballgag and put it in my mouth.  I started to say “Wait, please, I’m…” but was cut off as she pushed the rubber ball into my mouth and tied the strap behind my head.  She then placed some leather cuffs onto my wrist, stood me up and pushed me up against the bathroom door.  She held up my arms and connected the cuffs to a hook handing from the top of the door.

       My unease was evident.  I knew I was in for some sort of punishment.   Ambrosia quickly found a bag full of plastic colored clothes pins and returned to slap my breast, causing my nipples to swell.  She squeezed them and rolled them until they were thick and then placed the clothes pins on them.  She continues to attach clothes pins to my pussy lips and clit while chastising me. “You are to kneel in my presence unless I order you not to.  You are never to question me.”  She grabbed my chin and squeezed it, looking me in the eye “Understand, slave?”

       I nodded, wincing from the considerable pain the clothes pins were causing.  Ambrosia had a bag full of the plastic clothes pins.  She started to put them around my breast, pinching the skin but making a colorful circle around each breast.  When she was done, she had almost the entire bag of clothes pins on me.

       She then stood back, admired her work.  She took off her jeans and panties and sat down on the bed.  As she looked at me, she slid her finger down to her tattooed pussy and began to play with herself.  She admired me like a piece of art.  I watched her helplessly and in considerable pain as she slowly massaged herself until her body stiffened and she let out a soft moan.  She held her finger against her slit and leaned back on the bed, moaning softly.

       When she was done, she removed her clothes and put on an outfit I haven’t seen before.  It was latex outfit.  Black latex boots, pants and a sleeveless shirt.  It took her awhile to squeeze into the outfit but when she was done, she looked stunning.

       She returned to me carrying her iphone.  She snapped a few pictures of me then put it down to replace it with a cat-o-nines tail flogger.  She began to snap the flogger against my sex, pulling off a clothes pin with each snap of her wrist.  When my pussy was free of them, she put the flogger down and grabbed a large rounded head vibrator.  She turned it on and pushed it against my mons.  With the other hand she took the cat-o-nine tails and started to lightly flick them against my breast which were prickling with clothes pins.  I jerked and buckled against the door and fought back tears each time a clothes pin was whipped off.  I begged through my ball gag to cum and she said “You may cum slave.”  She began to whip harder and as the last clothes pin dropped to the floor I came with the vibrator pushed up tight onto my pussy.

       She released me and I returned to my knees in front of her.  I was grateful to see that she selected some leather clothing for me to wear – although it was more revealing than I hoped.  She had me wear a leather mini-skirt without underwear that would leave nothing to the imagination if I bent over or sat down without crossing my legs.  Above that she had me wear a leather vest that pushed up my cleavage to the point that if I didn’t keep it adjusted, the top of my nipples would show.  She had some high heel shoes that were too large for me.  I pointed to some leather combat boot and asked if I could wear those.  She shook her head and said “Interesting match but awful.”  She found some high healed black leather boots and made me put on two pairs of socks and before I put them on.  They were still too big but they were a bit more manageable.  She ordered me to stand up and walk around.  I managed to keep my balance but the experience was new to me.

       Ambrosia called a cab.  Soon we were inside the cab with a Somali driving who would look in the mirror at us curiously.  Ambrosia, to my horror, attached the leash to my collar in the back of the cab.  As we pulled up she whispered into my ear, “If anyone asks, you are 21.”

       The club was only identifiable from painted over windows and the base from the techno music that could be heard reverberating through the air outside the doors.  Ambrosia tugged on my leash and led me to the door.  Silently I sighed a breath of relief that she hadn’t made me crawl.  Ambrosia knew the door woman and they kissed each other on the cheek and exchanged a few pleasant words.  The door woman looked over at me, and then looked me up and down.  “Impressive,” she said and then let us through the doors.

       Inside it was dark.  Black lights revealed that it was leather and latex night and I saw that I wasn’t the only one with a collar. Several men and women knelt near tables.  On the wall was a giant ceramic salamander that glowed green under the black lights.

       Ambrosia led me by my lease to a booth in the back of the club.  “Hello Erin, Nate.  Any room for us?”

       Erin smiled and got up. “Of course! “ They hugged and Ambrosia slid into a seat.  She motioned for me to kneel at the floor.  Nate leaned up and looked over table at me. “Who is that precious thing!” he asked.

       “This is Liz.  Liz this is Mistress Erin and Mr. Ray.”

       “Call me Nate, please.”

       I nodded, blushing, having trouble hearing them over the pounding of the music.

       “Oh, she is delicious,“ Erin said, looking down at me.

       Ambrosia seemed proud, “I’m quite lucky.”  She unhooked my leash and placed it on the seat next to her.  A waitress appeared to take drink orders.  Ambrosia ordered a glass of water for me while the others all ordered flavored martinis.  “If you want to dance with her, you are more than welcome.”

       Erin looked pleased and said, “I’ll take you up on that.”  She got up and grabbed my hand, pulling me up, “Up you go!”  She led me to the crowded dance floor.  A dozen or so club patrons were grinding away in the center of the club, all in leather or latex.  Erin grabbed my hip with one hand and held my leash in another and started swaying with me.  I looked up at her and smiled awkwardly, trying my best to relax and groove with the tribal beat of that the DJ was pushing out.  Erin was older than Ambrosia, thirty something, maybe in her forties.  She wore a leather suit with her heavy cleavage pushed up.  Tight red leather pants showed off her curves.

       Erin’s hands clutched and caressed me as she moved to the music.  Her eyes devoured me.  As the beat changed she spun me around and pulled me back against her, rubbing up and down against me.  Her hand was sliding up and down the bare skin on my leg, pushing up under the skirt.  I glanced over to Ambrosia.  She was talking to Nate but watching me with an approving smile.

       Her hand moved between my legs, holding my inner thigh, using it to push pressure on me to keep me backed up against her.  She whispered in my ear, loud enough so I could hear over the music, “How long have you been Ambrosia’s slave.”

       “Three month’s Mistress.”

       “And this is your first time here?”

       “Yes, ma’am.”

       Her hand pushed up further, it was now under my skirt.  I looked around nervously to see if anybody had noticed, but the only one watching was Nate and Ambrosia.

       Erin had her mouth next to my ear.  “How do you like it?”

       I gyrated my hips with hers.  Her hand moved back around my exposed thigh and she was running up and down the side of my leg, each time moving up higher under my skirt.  “I like it,” I said and quickly added, “a lot.”

       Erin’s hand pushed up against my bare ass and then slowly went down.  “Such a decadent life.  Be careful she doesn’t corrupt you.”  With that she moved her hand back up and slid a finger over the bare lips of my pussy.  I caught my breath but didn’t stop moving to the music.  Her finger slowly pushed between my lips and ran forwards and backwards.  She softly kissed my neck and removed her finger.  She brought her hand around me and then stuck her finger into her mouth, tasting me.

       We danced a few more songs, if you could call that dancing, before we retired back to the booth.  Erin, Nate and Ambrosia spent the night chattering like young school girls. Occasionally we would dance and if it was Erin, she would continue to maul me and sample my charms.

       The night dragged on and Ambrosia even let me sip her martini . I was enjoying the evening and getting on a good buzz when Erin and Ambrosia got up.  Ambrosia put the leash back on me and led me to the back of the club.  We went through a door and down a narrow stairwell.  Past the restrooms there were other doors leading to rooms under the club.  Erin used a key on a door and opened it. 

       The walls of the room were old stone, the ceiling was wooden slats that creaked as the patrons above danced on the club floor.  The sides of the room were filled with plush chairs and couches.  In the center of the room was a long table on its side at an angle with leather straps on the four corners.  Hanging against the wall behind it were multitude of instruments of torture; whips, paddles, and straps.

       I almost moaned out loud but instead of being ordered to get naked and lean up against the table, Ambrosia sat down and patted her lap.  I sat down on her lap, putting my arm around her shoulder.  She wrapped her arms around me and held me close.  I was tired and rested my head on her shoulder.  There was a knock on the door and Erin opened it slightly, then seeing who it was, let the person in.  It was an older man with a beard and carrying a bucket with ice and beer.  The tall man and Erin exchanged pleasantries and he cracked open the beers and handed them to Erin and Ambrosia.  Several more people knocked and then entered in the next half hour until the room was full.  More drinks arrived and everyone was talking and drinking.  Finally, a lady arrived, holding the hand of a woman wearing a long black dress.  She said “This is her” and Erin locked the door and sat down next to Ambrosia.

       Someone looked at me and said “Ambrosia, how old is your girl there?”

       Erin jumped in.  “She’s 18, I checked her ID.”

       I didn’t dare look at the questioner in the eye so she could see the lie.  I kept my head down, looking at the person next to us.

       The lady that arrived spoke up.  “Take off your clothes girl.”  I glanced up to see the woman in the long black dress cover herself with her arms and look around nervously.  “Go ahead, this is what you wanted.”

       The woman reached behind her and unzipped her dress as the room grew quiet and watched.  The dress fell to the floor and the older woman said, “Good girl.”  Underneath was a push up bra and g-string.   She slowly took them off, leaving them in a pile on the floor.  The lady led the now nude woman to the inclined board.  She turned her around, pushed her up to the board and lifted her arms to attach them to the leather straps.  She pushed the woman’s legs open and attached each ankle to a leather strap.  When she was restrained, the lady ran her hand down the woman’s naked body.  The room was riveted to the scene in front of them.

       “Who is that?” I whispered into Ambrosia’s ear.

       “That is Mistress April.  I’m not sure who the sub is. I think it’s just someone she met tonight.”

       April started with a cat-o-nine tails and began to slightly whip the bound woman.  Her strokes were light but it was enough for the woman to wince.  I watched, transfixed.  I noticed how the woman’s nipples swelled.  She was breathing heavily, her arousal was apparent to everyone in the room.  The lady started to whip harder and the bond woman began to whimper and squirm.  Ambrosia’s hand found its way up my skirt and between my legs.  She began to stroke me as the show in front of us became more brutal.

       The cat-o-nine tails was replaced by a belt.  The beatings became sharper, the slaps louder.  The victim cried out and a ball gag was produced and shoved into her mouth.  I looked around.  Various couples were touching each other as they watched.  One girl was kneeling on the floor at the knees of the man with the beard.  She had his hard cock in her mouth and was eagerly sucking on it.  As the beatings became harsher, Ambrosia’s finger slipped through my wet slit faster.  I was very wet and I struggled to remain still.

       The belt was leaving large red marks on the woman’s breast.  Various moans permeated the room.  April stopped and undid the leather straps.  The woman could barely stand.  April guided her so that she was facing the board and then reattached the straps on her wrist.  She then pulled back on the woman so that she was bent forward, her arms bond above her.  She then resumed with the belt, this time on the woman’s ass.  The first slap and the woman tried to move free.  April kicked her feet under the woman’s leg and spread it farther, then brought the belt down again.

       I couldn’t control myself.  Ambrosia’s finger was making slow circles around my clit and I began to cum.  She slid two fingers into me and my pussy gripped them.  Her other hand wrapped around my head, holding me to her shoulder.  I bit my bottom lip, trying not to cry out.

       April turned and motioned to a man who was putting a condom on his erect cock.  He got up and stood next to her.  He grabbed the woman’s waist and aimed his cock between the woman’s wet slit, then pushed in slowly.  She cried out in her gag.  He began to pump in and out of her.  Then April knelt down under the woman and spread her legs.  She then bent her head up and licked the woman’s slit, her tongue touching where the cock slid into the woman.  The man grabbed a fist full of the bound woman’s hair and turned her head so that she could see the crowd watching.  He began to pound her harder.  The lady continued to lick and reached up to roughly grab a nipple that was hanging down over her.  The woman moaned into her gag and came.  I could see her eyelids flutter, then after a few furious strokes, the man held himself tight against the woman and released inside of her.

       The room descended into an orgy with some people watching and others taking part.  Erin leaned over Ambrosia’s lap and kissed me on the lips.  Ambrosia stroked my hair as Erin’s tongue sought out mine.  Erin grabbed my arm and pulled me off of Ambrosia’s lap and onto hers.  She began to make out with me, her hands exploring my breast and cupping my face as she pressed her lips against mine.  She spread her legs and pushed me down onto the ground.  She unzipped her latex pants and moved my head between then.  I knew what to do.  She gripped my collar as I started to lick up and down her slit.  She pushed her hips up to meet me.  It was interesting, tasting a woman besides Ambrosia.  Her lips were longer and she was only trimmed, not smooth like Ambrosia.  I pushed my tongue inside of her and tasted her warmth and wetness.

       As I licked, I felt someone grab my waist and pull it up.  Erin held my collar tight in her hands so I couldn’t see what was happening behind me.   I did glance up to see Ambrosia watching me and touching herself.

       Suddenly, I felt someone push my leather skirt up and rub their cock against my pussy lips from behind.  He slowly pushed the head into me.  It was a real cock and whoever it was slowly pushed it into me until I could feel his hips pressed against my ass.  He kneaded and rubbed my ass, pushing his cock in and out of me.  The sensation was amazing.  Much better than a fake rubber cock.  I moaned into Erin’s pussy and she gripped my head harder, rubbing herself onto my mouth.

       Erin began to hyperventilate and then she came, holding my collar so tight that I couldn’t even move my head.  The man behind me plunged in and out of me faster until I came.   He jerked hard against me then laid across my back, breathing heavily.

Liz and the Wolves of Shahala

By Rasputtin Szczepanski

Chapter 10

       I woke up early and immediately went through my morning routine in order to get to the cave as quickly as I could.  I brought my leather outfit that I had smuggled in the night before.  I kept my door unlocked in case Aunt Holly or Herb decided to check on me.  With the rug covering the floor, they would have hopefully assumed that I had gone out.

       Climbing down the ladder, I hoped that Bunny wasn’t worried.  I had been gone a whole day. 

I was wearing nothing but leather – a leather skirt, a leather vest and leather boots.  I took off a boot and stuck it in the blue light to see if it would burn.  Nothing happened except that the plastic tips on the shoelace had melted.  I still was not convinced of the safety of the outfit, so I stripped down to nothing, carried the clothing in a pile in my hands and entered the tunnel.  A quick glance at my pile of clothing showed no ill effects on the leather.  Still, I moved quickly through the tunnel until I was on the other side.

       Once in the cave, I put on the leather outfit.  The inside of the vest was a cloth liner that had burned off through the passage.  I was glad I didn’t wear it.  It was a good start.  The heels had melted almost completely off as well.  I sat down on a rock and attempted to knock the remains of the heels off.  After bludgeoning them on a hard rock, they loosened and fell off.  I put them on, grabbed the shovel I had left against the cave wall and worked my way towards the hidden entrance of the cave.

       The sun was shining brightly on the mountain that morning.   The cool, crisp air dappled with the spicy scent of pine and flowers was intoxicating, especially when compared to the grey drabness of Maine spring.  The sunlight sparkled across the tinkling water and birds sang from unseen perches above.  Nowhere did I see Bunny.  I called out his name.  My voice didn’t seem to carry far.

       I walked down to the water’s edge and cupped some water and brought them to my lips, drinking it in.  I decided on walking down the mountain, following the stream so that I could find my way back.  I wanted to explore.  Whatever Bunny was doing, I knew he would be back.

       The mountain grew less steep and the forest thicker as I went down.  Occasionally I would get a glimpse of the land below.  Hills and what looked like a river in a valley.  There were no cities, no signs of life, just the ever present large planet with the rings hovering in the haze above me.  I hiked for about an hour before I got hungry and headed back up the mountain.

       I was sweating and my legs burning by the time I made it back to the waterfall.  I was happy to see Bunny poke his head out of the corner of the waterfall.  When he saw me he yelped and sprinted down toward me.  I should have been afraid.  He was a wolf and almost twice my size.  I could see his smile and I knew he didn’t want to hurt me.  Nevertheless, he knocked me down as he jumped up and tried to lick my face.  I tried pushing him off but I fell back into some shallow water. 

       “I’m sorry!” he panted, still licking.  He jumped back and did a circle, his tail wagging wildly. “I’m so glad you came back!”

       “I told you I would only be gone a day,” I said as I pushed myself up onto a dry rock.

       Bunny cocked his head, looking at me quizzically.  “It’s been almost two months!”

       “What?  I just saw you yesterday.”

       “The moon went full twice since you have been gone.  It’s been 62 days exactly.  I knew you would come back.  I knew it!  I don’t know how but I knew it.  That’s why I checked every day.  Why were you gone so long?”

       “I swear Bunny, I was only gone a day.”  I pushed myself up.  “Let’s figure this out.”  I breathed in and thought about it.  I knew it was just one more mystery of the cave.  “I have an idea. Let’s go back to the cave.”  Before heading up, I leaned down and put my arms around his neck, hugging him.  “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

       He licked my face. “I’m just glad you are back.”

       In the cave I asked, “Did you try going back to my side?”

       “I tried but I can’t.  I thought it closed forever but I think now that I can only go through with you.”

       “Ok then, let’s try.”

       I took off my leather clothes, placing it neatly folded on a rock and then we both walked through the tunnel.  Once on the other side I patted his head and said, “Wait down here.  I’m going to the top of that pile of rocks.”  I climbed up to my tunnel that led to my room and looked back down at him.  “Now try to go back into the tunnel.”

       He nodded and then it was like he was walking into a wall.  The blue waterfall flickered and I could see a cave wall where a tunnel once was.  He backed up and the tunnel reappeared behind the blue light.

       “So, you can only go through it when I am with you.”

       Bunny pushed his paw forward, testing the blue light.  “Why is that, do you think?”

       “I think I know.”  I clamored back down.  “Follow me.”  I walked back into the light.  Bunny followed and I stopped.  I looked down at my tattoo.  It was glowing red. 

       Bunny’s eyes followed mine.  “The Cintamani…”  I traced the tattoo with my fingers.  He continued. “Strong magic.  I don’t know its origin but wherever it came from must have had something to do with this tunnel.”

       I thought of my mom’s studies and said “I think there are more tunnels.”  I walked back out into my cave.

       “This is the first one I have ever seen.”

       “I need to grab some food and see something.  I’ll be back down.”

       When I got back into my room, my clock confirmed my suspicion.  Despite spending almost half a day in the sun, it was still only 6 a.m. Except for one kid watching TV in the living room, the rest of the house was still asleep.  I put on a robe and went in the kitchen, grabbing a handful of food.  I stopped to use the restroom and saw that I was sunburn.  I used almost half a bottle of sunblock, spreading it almost over my whole body.  Then I hurried back down to the cave.

       Bunny and I munched on a box of fruity pebbles. 

       “I wish I could see your world,” Bunny said quietly. 

I was sitting in my robe, drinking a can of coke.  “It is different than yours.  You wouldn’t like it.  I don’t like it.”

“Is everyone as beautiful as you are?”

I was taken back, momentarily.  I laughed, “I don’t know how to answer that.  Are all the wolves as handsome as you where you come from?”

He laughed and sat on his haunches.  “My tribe is the biggest of all the tribes.  Some would say the most handsome.”

“Are there a lot of tribes of wolves?”

“We call ourselves Molsem but I know what you mean.  There are twelve tribes. My tribe is the Enomozi tribe.  Well, I used to be part of the Enomozi tribe.  I’m a tribe of one now.  Two when you are with me.”

He smiled and I could have sworn he was flirting with me.  I momentarily thought of the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood then quickly dismissed it.  Bunny was more like the class clown in high school.   Something about him had quickly earned my trust.

“I think I know why it seemed like two months to you.   This last time I was in your world for almost half the day and when I came back, the clocks didn’t move at all.  Time doesn’t move here.  I don’t know.  It’s like ‘The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe’.  I think I could spend a whole lifetime in your world and when I came back, I would still be the same age.”

“What about a witch?”

“It’s a movie.  In it, these kids go through a portal to another world and the time stops in theirs.  Maybe whoever made the movie knew about these tunnels.  Maybe it was based on something real.  The animals talked in that movie.”

“Not all animals talk.”

“I could go, find my mother and come back and no one would know I was gone.”

“Where is your mother?”

“I think your leader, the leader of the Enomozi tribe knows.  I want to find out how he got that necklace.”

Bunny frowned.  “I don’t know…it’s not safe”

“I have to do it Bunny.  I have to know.”

Bunny looked down and thought about it then said, “They would kill you if they saw you.  Let me show you something and let us think about it.  Maybe there is a way.”

“Show me what?”

“Let me show you.  It will be a surprise.”  He smiled again.

I pushed him over playfully.  “I hate surprises!” 

I loved surprises.