Anodyne

*Author's Note: Ok, this is my "testing the waters" story. I am hopefully giving just enough to give a taste of my style without getting too far into the story. If you are wondering about identities and other glaring lacks, good. Please tell me if you want more. I fully intend to finish this story but it is up to you whether or not I upload it to this site. Please forgive plot issues and grammar and spelling mistakes but please tell me about them. I would really appreciate any criticism which can help me improve. With that said, I'm writing this story for fun. I'd like to keep it fun. Thanks and Enjoy!*

The storm wind whipped and lashed the confining limbs of the heavy greenery in a sea like parody I found appealing, making this night better than the last. But my attention was elsewhere. The reopened cut along the blue vein in my left index finger welled and dripped great drops of red blood into the little blue-flowered cup of the play tea set on the dresser. I watched the blood gather in the little cup. I felt the sting of the abused finger and focused on feeling the anger and frustration seep out with it. I schooled my face into my practiced blank look and tried to tune out the argument still ongoing in the living room. My focus faltered briefly as I thought of the reasons for my return; both fortified in their color-coded, trash-strewn rooms.

Why else would I return but for my younger siblings?

Why else would I continue anything but for them? I forced my thoughts from the enticing lack of all obligations and stresses back to reality. Thousands of dollars of debt, a minimum wage part time internet job and years left before a better paying job would become possible.

I was a college student on break. Alone with my family in a home which was even less my own for the fact that they had moved there during my second year at college. A beautiful home, new "possessions" such as a private bathroom and king size bed replaced the tiny room and shared bathroom which was formerly mine in an old custom built doublewide mobile home.

A large deck, landscaped yard and pool were also added to the family possessions upon moving. But the room that was mine was the spare used for guests when the pastor, my father, needed room for those lacking a place to stay or when the church invited guest speakers. The pool was for vespers and church socials in which I had no part. A fact which I'd cemented when I'd made my rather infamous and reputation damaging egress from the church the year before. Despite the hassle I couldn't help being happy about leaving. It had been a relief to stop pasting practiced smiles on my face and hugging people whose names I knew I would never bother to learn or singing songs so similar you could interchange many of the lyrics without anyone noticing.

Lightning flashed across the sky and I waited for the thunder. My blood had stopped flowing so I opened the slit a bit wider and flicked aside the quickly forming scab. The tiny cup was nearly full now and the sting in my finger had subsided into a dull throbbing ache. I wanted to sigh but not enough of the tension had left my body yet and I feared I might cry if I allowed my façade to slip. So I steadied the cup and sat up. The warm wet air smelled fresh and exciting and I stared out thinking into the storm until I realized that something was looking back.

Eyes, human eyes sparked in the light from the room. Hands pried the screen loose and gripped the sill. A slim but wet male form slipped quietly through and knelt dripping on one of the many pillows. In better lighting he appeared wild like the storm. He was windswept and wore his loosely cropped hair in no particular fashion.

Vaguely aware of the tiny boot dagger I still gripped in my hand I simply looked at him. My façade slipped just a little and my expressionless face took a more tired look. I should have been afraid. I should have told him to leave or screamed, or even held up the tiny dagger as warning. I did nothing but shift my overweight body into a slightly more comfortable position. When he moved I didn't see it but he had dropped to lick the tiny teacup clean. It took him only moments and then he raised his eyes to mine and seized my finger. It was then that I noticed he wasn't dripping only water onto the pillow. He was bleeding. His oversized canine teeth flashed in the light as he leaned forward.

Vampire? Really?

He licked my finger clean and ran his own across it. In moments it had scabbed over and he had invaded my personal space before I had looked away from the finger. I stiffened as he licked from the crook of my neck, out along the left collar bone. He pulled my shirt aside and bit into my skin just above the collar bone.

He took my blood in long pulls and I remained stiffened. I mentally chided myself for feeling relieved at this quite mythical of deaths it seemed I was receiving. For though I would never have allowed myself to indulge in death of my own will, death had come courting me of its own accord. I found it welcome. My façade fell away and I started to grin even as my body loosened and I drooped in his firm grip. I felt my heart begin to race and had to struggle to stay awake. He pulled away with a groan and pulled me possessively to him as he lay in his own blood.

"Thank you" he whispered.

I tried to focus on why his gratitude bothered me but it was too hard and I stopped struggling to stay awake.

Hell-oooooo!!!

*bang *bang *bang

"Time to get uuu-uuup!"

*bang *bang *bang *bang*bang *bang *bang

I groaned and pressed my hand to my head trying futilely to stave off a colossal headache. I blinked my eyes and considered how best to leverage my bulk up without my notoriously temperamental back going into spasm or my recently bruised and sore wrists taking too much more punishment. I settled for further damaging my wrists and braced with my arms to lift my body into a sitting position with minimal stress on my back.

*bang *bang

"Gooooooood morrrrninnningggg!!!"

I chose a number at random and blurted, "I only have six pages left!"

The one think sacred enough to my mother that she would leave without question or further comment was reading. I always brought more books than anything else back home with me and she knew that every book I finished would be left for her. Luckily I was the speed reader in the family.

True to previous experience I could hear her waddling back down the hall with a shout for my sister to eat her medicine laced food before getting another glass of milk.

With legs crossed at the ankles I braced with my arms all the way to my elbows and tilted my body to the side of the leg held down by the other. My left arm pushed harder and leveraged me to my right. A third hand steadied me on my back. Wait... third hand...

I turned too quickly and saw the man from the previous night. My back went into spasm and I slipped from the edge of the bed to the floor, struggling not to wince.

"You okay?" He was leaning over my shoulder as I stuffed my fingers under my thighs and focused on a bland expression.

"Uh- huh" I grunted.

I focused on tilting my pelvis as the Physical Therapist had instructed.

"Your back muscles are over tense and damaged" he commented coming crouch next to me. Had I not been attempting to maintain my dignity, I might have given in to my desire to forget about the as yet unnamed male and keen a deep moan of pain. I counted wood fibers and ignored him.

He moved toward me. "Don't" I squeezed through teeth which had somehow become clenched. "Not now."

"I will only help relax your muscles," he promised.

His hand slipped between the bed and my back making soothing circles until I leaned a bit forward to allow him better access. His other hand joined the first and he began to gently stretch the painfully tight areas between his two hands. He warmed with my body heat until he was as warm as me and I had quite relaxed, despite the continued pain, into his grasp.

With a sudden smooth movement he lifted my more than considerable bulk. I squeaked in protest and looked to his face but he didn't seem fazed by my weight and easily carried me into the bathroom. He deposited me on the shower floor and started the water. He shielded me from the water with his own clothed body until he had adjusted the temperature.

The warm water soaked through my clothes. Soothing and loosening as my heart rate increased to spread the heat evenly across my body.

When the water turned cool he stopped its flow and carefully lifted me to my feet. Handing me a towel he closed the door behind him. I stood dripping towel in hand and wondered how I was going to get dressed.

In the end I needn't have worried. He handed the loose black sport pants and red shirt I considered my comfortable clothes in. I narrowed my eyes at the black bra and underwear he wrapped in the bundle but decided the less said the better.

When I emerged feeling relaxed and much better than I had in several weeks I had already formed a plan of gratitude and very belated questions for him. The room was empty. The window was closed and the screen wedged in place. The words died as I reluctantly left the room to face my family.

It was nearly two thirty before I resolutely pulled my stiff body away from freshly wiped counters and overstuffed trash cans to get some rest. My family could easily be described positively or negatively but at that moment I was leaning toward the less forgiving "pigs" and "hopeless" descriptions.

Stubby candles covered every available surface and I purposefully lit them all. They were of varied size shape and color. Their only appeal being the flickering light they provided and the mixture of scents which combined pleasantly. I undressed and stepped into my bathroom, my eyes trailing the joining of the floor and the wall. A twin mattress leaned against the wall between the sink and the tiny shower. A wolf spider scurried around to the side of the mattress closest to the shower curtain and dropped out of view. I ignored it.

My eyes shifted again to the overdone southwestern style "pueblo" decorations screwed irritatingly to the upper edges of the large mirror over the sink. Oh, for the days when I could look at a sledge hammer without wincing in anticipated pain. I grinned to myself at the thought of destroyed décor and turned on the water in the shower.

As I waited for the water to heat up I knelt on the floor of the bathroom and began the slow meticulous stretches and exercises to strengthen and relax my back muscles. By the time I had finished them and leaned wearily against the wall of the shower, the steam had begun to coat the walls with condensation. I washed mechanically. I only paid attention when I had to stretch in a dangerous direction.

My fingers trailed between my legs and my face relaxed in momentary enjoyment. Briefly I considered whether I had the energy and enough desire to risk another back episode. A pastor's progeny I may be but my tastes ran in less innocent directions. Painfully uncomfortable in public, overweight as well as bound by expectation and past experience I had never had a boyfriend or even a date.

In my early twenties now I didn't consider that a likely possibility, not that I was interested in marriage. Multiple less than savory experiences at boarding schools throughout my childhood had robbed me of innocence, virginity and the ability to gracefully deal with confining relational strictures. My addiction to sex, or rather masturbation, had shocked me with its intensity.

It threw everything out of perspective and left me almost mindlessly seeking pleasure for hours at a time. Few things held enough lure to make me risk a back episode but a good orgasm was one of them. I rinsed my hand and used the large-toothed comb to smooth the tangles from my long dark gold hair and reached for my towel.

Deciding I was definitely in need of a little enjoyment I padded out to the bed. I loosely braided my hair and arranged the covers and pads to hide the blood stains, which I had learned would not be coming out. When I was finished they formed a soft slope. I heated some water in the microwave for my hot water bottle and pulled out a sheaf of papers I had wedged into an often overlooked corner.

The first story was an excerpt from a book a classmate of mine was attempting to finish. Upon discovering that we had similar less than good Christian leanings she had promptly co-opted me to proofread and help edit her manuscript.

In one scene her main character instigated a gay bondage scene. Her descriptions were stimulating and vivid. The protagonist teased using his background with massage and various therapies to stimulate his willing captive.

He used a belt to redden the other mans back and buttocks and teased his anus with a small dildo. He used soft teasing touches on the man's cock, stroked the underside of the penis and circled the tip.

All the time he told his partner what he planned to do. She gave her protagonist animalistic words like, "rut" and "hump" which were coupled with "rip" and "thrust" and "drive". They were powerful, violent, mindless words. All used to set a mood fit for the situation.

It was pretty good writing but not stimulating enough for me. A glaring plot hole, how they managed to get from studying in the library to a fully stocked sex room when neither of them had ever done this sort of thing before, might have had more than a little to do with that. Compounding this was the statement that neither had any idea where the room or equipment had come from. I moved on.

The next story was a fantasy I been allowed to print for personal use. Good enough. My breathing deepened and my right hand trailed below the covers. I lightly trailed them over my stomach and touched my thighs in soft strokes.

I grazed the sporadically trimmed hair. I dipped down to touch my protruding clitoris and moving back to my thighs.

I flipped the page and began to tease my nipples. Lightly pressing and squeezing.

I began to breathe faster.

By the time the protagonist finally got around to thrusting into his companion I joined in with a finger. The folds parted easily as I headed for my g-spot the surprisingly short coupling left me hot and panting. Frustrated, I moved on to the next story.

A tender romance about a woman's first time. There was nothing wrong with it but it would never make me cum. I sifted through the papers until I found one of the least carefully written ones. No real plot only harsh pounding sex. No matter how I tried I still needed violence to stimulate me to orgasm. Focusing on an action-filled sentence, I stroked and circled between my clit and my g-spot. I focused on keeping both on edge. The tension built up.

I dropped the papers to my side and grabbed my left nipple squeezing the sensitive bud and rubbed furiously. My eyes pulled shut and I shook with abandon managing only to continue stroking. I broke up the rhythm as I came down from the mindless bliss. Finally I lay still. Mindful of unknown possibilities I re-gathered the papers and stuffed them back in their corner.

The sun had just begun to rise when I drifted off to sleep.