The Meeting Point (6 page)

Soon they were sitting around it, warming their skin and chatting softly.

“I'm hungry,” said Angelo, his stomach rumbling emphatically. “Did anyone pack any food?”

The two women looked at each other and shook their head, everyone feeling guilty and ill prepared.

“We'll have to make a trap and kill something.” Mae actually sounded excited, and Lena raised her eyebrows. “It's easy. They used to show us how to do it in the woods at the manor. Remember, Lena?”

Lena laughed. “Um, no. I didn't make it to many lessons, Mae, did I?”

Mae had the decency to blush. While at the manor, Lena was regularly taken from classes and shown new and far more exciting skills by Mae, an expert teacher.

“Yes, I wondered about that.” Angelo sat up a little and smiled slyly at the women. “You never did tell me exactly what went on in your little training sessions.”

Lena remembered the guilt and betrayal she'd felt for falling for two lovers. She could never have imagined back then that it would have worked out as perfectly as this, that her lovers would meet and fall for each other too. It was like a fairytale, and Lena the princess.

“Let's save it for another time,” Mae said quickly. “We need to find some food.”

“Why don't we just keep moving? The farm might be closer than we think. There'd be food there, surely?”

Angelo looked unsure. “We've been walking all day, Lena, and it's getting dark. We might end up where we started. And besides, the butterfly hasn't come back yet—we'd be walking blind.”

Lena conceded. He was right. Mae had left them and was shuffling about in the forest undergrowth. Lena and Angelo kept silent, the dark cloak of night descending thickly upon them. For a long time they listened to the silence, Lena amazed at how loud it suddenly was. Birds' evening song, rustling and twitching in the leaves, the crinkling crack of sparks spitting from the fire, her own heart pounding in her chest. She was suddenly afraid. Claustrophobic even. Sounds and darkness were crowding in on her and she was about to cry out and reach for Angelo when Mae came striding back over and dumped a furry carcass at their feet.

Lena winced. “What is it?” she asked, not actually wanting to know.

“It's a rabbit,” Mae said, proudly displaying a bloody, sharpened stick.

“Fantastic. Thanks.” Angelo quickly sprang to his feet, picking up the floppy corpse, and kissed Mae hard on the lips as it swung loosely in his grip. Lena felt a little nauseous. “I'll get cooking.”

Lena was amazed at their capable way. They were perfect together in this strange life. Lena hoped she brought enough to the table. Suddenly bored by her own self-doubts, Lena went to find Angelo's pen knife, determined to just get on with things. “Here,” she said, trying not to watch too hard as he opened the blade and sliced swiftly through the animal's belly, pulling out ruddy innards and flicking them to the ground. She had to look away when he began to tug at the skin, peeling it away from the flesh.

Soon the smell of hot, cooked meat was making her mouth water and Lena gladly took the slithers of rabbit handed to her and had a taste.

“That is actually pretty good,” she said, nodding, relieved that their first night in the forest wouldn't be tainted by the throb of hunger. Not for food anyway.

 

 

“What
is
that?” Marcus shifted his shoulder from under Deborah's head.

“Oh, just leave it,” she said, annoyed that her perfect comfortable position was sabotaged. “It's just the wind in a tree or something.”

But Marcus was up and out of bed, leaving a cooling patch beside her. Something had been tapping at the window sporadically over the past few hours. Deborah had assumed it was just a branch swaying in the wind.

“No, there's no trees on this side. They cut them down near my window as a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?”

Angelo flashed her a smile. “Not to escape.”

Deborah looked at the tiny, high window and thought what a futile pointless exercise that was. A cat could barely have made it through the little gap. Marcus was now standing on the chest of drawers trying to see out to what was causing the intermittent tapping.

“What the hell is that?” he said loudly as the thing bashed near his face, making him jump back and lose his balance slightly. Deborah held her breath as he wobbled, clutching the wall for support. “It's going to break the bloody glass!”

Deborah moved off the bed and went toward him, squinting up at the window. He was right; it was like a small, injured bird throwing itself again and again into it.

“What's it doing?” cried Deborah as the creature thudded sickeningly once more. Dawning crept in and she jumped up beside Marcus. “Quick, open it wider, let it in.”

“No!” He stopped her and roughly pulled the window closed. “It's mad, it's probably carrying disease.”

Deborah rubbed her knee where it had hit the drawers as he'd halted her, pushing her off. “Marcus, please, I know what it is, let me up beside you.”

He looked doubtful for a moment, but Deborah insisted, holding out her arm for him to pull her.

“You'll have to lift me,” she said when she was on top of the drawers, her head only up to his chest.

He cupped his hands low for her to step on and hoisted her high enough to see out of the window.

Deborah immediately unlocked the latch and reached out to the butterfly, cupping it in her hands as it just began to fall. “Thank God,” she murmured as she brought the tiny treasure into the room.

Marcus lifted her off the sideboard and onto the bed. It sent a thrill through her body to know he could easily do that, and she smiled at him taking a seat carefully beside her. Aware that her face was flushed, excitement bubbled in Deborah's chest as she opened her hands to reveal the clockwork butterfly to Marcus. It was bashed and worn, and its wings had stopped flapping, but it had made it.

“What the hell is it?” he asked, taking it from her.

“It's a homing butterfly. Lena's male made it.”

“Lena's male?”

Deborah now took the time to fill in the blanks of her escape and how she'd managed to find him. She told him the stories she'd gleaned from Lena while she'd been rehabilitating her, and the stories she'd been told from her assistant, Cheryl. Marcus looked confused and doubtful, especially about the strange, battered, metal creature that lay limp in his hands, but Deborah reasoned, even he couldn't deny that something fantastical had brought them to each other.

“And you say, if we send this out, it will go back to those people and lead them to us?”

Deborah was high with excitement and knelt on the bed, squealing and bouncing on her knees. Her passion ebbed as she took in the look on his face. “What's wrong?”

“What would be the benefit in leading people here? Especially a male. He'll get caught and be used like me.”

“They'll be careful.” Deborah was confused by his sudden hostility. “They already managed to escape from a manor and then free me from a prison. They're not stupid, Marcus.”

He looked away and Deborah caught him by the chin, drawing him back to her.

“It's no use, Deborah. I'm stuck here.” He lifted his arm to remind her of the electrodes. “I'm just worried that if they arrive, you'll go after them and leave me here alone again.”

Deborah was incredulous. “You think I'd do that?” She grabbed his hair as his head sank away from her again and pulled him hard to face her. “You think after spending eight years fucking and dominating women so I could get to ultimate unity to search for you—eight years of plunging my fingers into cunts and tits and mouths, all in the search for you—that I'd leave you?” She was crying now, hot tears searing her cheeks. She was humiliated and furious that he would think so little of her. “I'm so fucking angry right now, Marcus.” And she was. White fearsome emotion flooded through her and she felt herself dangling off the abyss. She could hear Marcus in the distance, trying to haul her back, but she was so angry, so, so angry. She wanted to just let go and fall into the oblivion.

“
No
!” A fist clutched at her shoulders and shook her hard.

Her legs dangled into the blackness and she thought how silly they looked. All around her was space. Space and ultimate unity, but this time, she felt the creeping mewl of fear surround her. Panic set in and she closed her eyes, focusing on those fingers, wrapped into her flesh and pulling her out. She counted backward...three, two, one.

“Marcus!” She flopped onto the bed and into his trembling arms. He was crying and sobbing all around her and she dissolved into him.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Come back to me. Come back to me.” He whispered the mantra desperately into her ears over and over again.

When she'd finally stilled and the gushing sound of blood pumping through her own head subsided, Deborah spoke. “Marcus, I will never, ever leave you.” Her voice wavered, the remnants of fury still draining.

“I know. I believe you.” He clutched her even more tightly and sobbed into her hair. “I'm sorry. I never meant to doubt you.”

Deborah was finally calm again, exhausted and peaceful. She pulled gently free from Marcus and picked up the butterfly which had fallen to the floor. Holding it to his face, she made him study the intricacy.

“Marcus, the man that made this butterfly will be summoned to us if we send it out again. Can you imagine what it took to make such a creature?”

Marcus took it and nodded humbly.

“If we can get him here and explain how you're bound to this place, I'm sure of all the people on this earth, he'd be the one to figure out what to do.” She smoothed his hair from his stricken face and kissed him softly. “Trust me, please. I don't know how to live if you don't trust me.”

Deborah fell into him again and was at once engulfed in his arms.

“I do. I do trust you,” Marcus whispered into her hair, and she felt the mood change in that one breath. He slowly slid his leg over hers and shifted position to allow her to feel his hardening cock at her thigh. “I'm so sorry. Let me make love to you. Let me show you how much I trust you.”

Deborah smiled and let her head rest deep into the pillows as he moved away from her and crawled down between her legs. His face, his beard, even fuller now after a day without shaving or trimming, scratched at her inner thighs, making her moisten at the sheer ruggedness of his face. The joy of being so close to a man. It brought out her femininity in the most instinctive way. Her breasts swelled and peaked and her female sex poured out welcoming, silken fluid for him. It was a relief not to be the one in charge, and she spread herself for him, willing the domination she craved.

“Your heat is so overpowering. I forgot this furnace. No one comes close to your burning desire.” He paused and looked up, a guilty, hurt expression filling his eyes.

Deborah knew instantly he felt bad about mentioning other lovers. But to Deborah, it showed how highly he thought of her. How none of them mattered. How she was infinitely more important. She smiled and blinked, hoping he'd understand. With a grin of relief, he sank back into the folds of her hungry open cunt, so ripe, so swollen for him. Deborah was desperate to show him how much he turned her on and groaned loudly as he pressed his tongue into her, flattening it out over her entire pussy, then letting it flip into her entrance, fluttering there as she squirmed, juices flowing.

“Oh, Marcus, Marcus.” She grabbed at his hair and twisted her knees up and around his head, locking him in place, but trying to halt the mounting climax. She didn't want to come yet. She wanted this to last and last. “Stop, stop.” She gripped tighter and he stilled his tonguing. Her body relaxed and the tension left her fists. Just as she'd almost composed herself, he flicked her clit cruelly with the very tip of his tongue, almost bringing her off with that one tiny motion. She squealed and he lifted himself away, smiling darkly.

Engorged and left on the brink, her pussy was quivering, frustrated and so, so excited.

“You are a cruel, bad man,” she said, and he crawled toward her, hauling off his clothing. Snapping the belt of a robe in his fists, he licked his lips and motioned for Deborah to put her hands above her head.

Yes, yes
, she thought and did as she was bid. She arched the back of her chest high to thrust her breasts up, hoping to catch a lick to her nipples or at the very least, a grazing of chest hair. He resisted. She knew he would. It was delightful. Memories of life together in their house flooded back. Deborah studying and researching. Marcus crawling toward her, pulling her into a sexual embrace, then teasing her mercilessly until she turned into a climaxing, shuddering, spiritual shell. He was so good at it, and she was beyond aroused as she steadied herself and ceased breathing in anticipation.

A thick cord was wound and tightened around her wrists and hands until the muscles and sinew beneath her skin tingled.

Yes, yes.
She rolled on a wave of silent obedience, while inside she was a glowing ball of sexual abandon. She could barely tell limb from limb as all the parts of herself merged at the boundary between physical and spiritual connection.

Her flesh was ringing with need and she cried out as he flipped her over onto her front, twisting her hands over each other, stretching her body out as he pinned her calves. She wanted to spread her legs, grind her cunt into the bedding and get some relief from the spiraling sensation. But still he held her fast. Her clit was bubbling, brimming with the need to be tipped over the edge.

“Oh Marcus, fuck me.” She heard the words before she realized she'd said them. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

He drew his hand languidly down from her shoulder to the crease of her buttock, and she groaned as he skewered fingers into her heat between her clamped shut legs. It was always a favorite of his to have her caught like this, unable to move as he delved and explored, seeing what action elicited what reaction. She squirmed, trying to suckle his invading digits. He pushed his hands deeper into the crevice of her sex, reaching under to her mound where he grabbed her pubic hair and lifted her slightly. Deborah yelped as the heel of his hand made contact with her clit and more wetness oozed out of her. She imagined the sight of her juices glistening over his whole hand and wrist, smearing over her cunt and ass as he worked like this, holding her bush tight.

She held him like a clam, determined to cling onto this moment. Suddenly, he released her and climbed off her legs, pulling his arm free with a satisfying sucking sound. Blood coursed into her calf muscles and her toes spiked with pins and needles. She opened her legs wide and pushed her pelvis into the mattress, trying to hump the feelings of his absent hand back into her clit.

“You are so wet for me, aren't you?”

Deborah nodded into her own hair which was stuck wildly to her face and shoulders as she tucked her face into her arms. She was ashamed at how wet she was and didn't know why.

“I love it. I love it,” he said, soothing his still sticky palm over her behind. “I want to spank you though.”

It was a blinding, overwhelming statement. For eight years she had strapped, whipped, smacked, and thrashed women to the point of climax, keeping her own need for such treatment to the stolen memories of her time in the forest with Marcus. It was now. The moment had come. All her emotion, stress, fear, and excitement centered on the here and now.

As the first smack rang through her flesh, all that power dissipated and she felt cleansed of it. Relief and submission took her breath away and his palm fell again, splicing their time apart into a billion pieces. She rolled on the bed, groaning and growling as the thrashing intensified.
His hand must be hurting
, she thought.
He needs this as much as I do.
He was beating the submission he'd endured out of himself and she was only too happy to suck it up and take it on. Her body yielded to the pain and she let him take all her dominance.

Her buttocks kept tensing with every thwack and she pressed down into the bed. As if reading her thoughts, he reached under her, gripping both her hip bones, and lifted. Her knees pulled up and he settled her there with her ass presented high for the next round. Deborah pushed higher in invitation, relishing the fact that her buttocks were stretched tight and round with no escape from his hand. The imagined sight of her spread cheeks with her plump, dripping pussy peeking from in between made her horny beyond belief. She wondered how raw she looked, how wanton and ready her slick hole was for his advances.
Thwack!
It caught her unaware and she yelped, twisting on her bindings.

“Are you okay?”

Yes, yes, yes.
Deborah nodded her head ferociously and managed to whisper just as another blow landed, “Don't stop.”

But he had. The mattress sagged then rose when he moved off it and padded to his chest of drawers. The squeak of the drawer on an unoiled runner gave Deborah chills of excitement. It was the same sound her drawer of implements had made in her punishment chamber. That delicious creak and slide of worn wood moving reluctantly through its grooves made her mouth water for what might be inside, what he might use on her. The chink and jingle of a buckle made her tense her buttocks in delight. The smell of the leather as he passed it slowly past her face made her yearn for the taste of his cock. Her mouth felt empty and needy.