House of Syn Ch. 02

Chapter 02: Daughter of Syn

I ease my bike in next to Todd's antique car and shut it down. The lack of vibration from the big motor between my legs comes as a sudden disappointment, even though I knew it was about to happen.

Running my gloves over the goose bumps on my bare legs,shivering at the feel of my hands, in lace, on cold skin. I squeeze my breast in the satin bra, my nipples are painfully hard from the cold wind. I love the feeling.

Lifting my helmet off, I place it between the handlebars, I pull my goggles down. They bump my collar with a leather on leather sound. With reluctance I peal my naked sex off the tank. I can see the line of moisture where it was. I smile as I settle my skirts.

I undo the knot and pull my scarf from my head and stuff it into the inside of the helmet. I place my goggles there as well.

Looking in the window of Todd's car I use it as a mirror to adjust my hair. A glint of red light flashes my eyes as the setting sun slips from behind a billboard.

I pull my Gargoyles from my clutch purse. I also take out my ring.

I slip the most prized item of jewelry I have ever had onto my finger. Not even the silver and diamond ring on my other hand truly means as much to me. I lift the blade into the dying sun light, again mesmerized by the play of light and shadows through the engraved surface.

The sun's reflection distracts me from what could have been a long session of enraptured gazing. I place my sunglasses on my nose and turn towards the iron gates. I stop and remember the gift on the back of my bike.

As I lift the roses from the seat box I see again the wet spot I left on the tank. I caress it, thanking my 'Ninja' lover for the pleasure he gave me.

My heels clicking on the stone walk as I go through the large gates and walk with no distraction to the shrine of my saint.

I drop to my knees in front of the rose enshrouded stone of white marble. Placing the half dozen roses next to it, I trace my silvery ring across the letters of her name. My deadly Elizabeth. The woman for which I was named.

Beth.

The name I rejected.

I feel it dropping away from me as I kneel in the sun warmed grass, smelling the rose perfume. I feel Baethny settle about my shoulder with a feeling not unlike the lace jacket that I wear.

It's the Daughter in Syn that arises from before the grave of a murderess. It's 'the Daughter' as they call me here that walks through the hanging chains into 'Sanctuary'. My club, my place of business. My home.

I can smell the various scents as I pass the rooms going to where I know Syn will be. Leather predominates, but hidden among it, masked by it, is the old smell. The smell that was here the first day we came to look at the property.

They say you never can truly get out the smell of decay.

Who would want to hide so sweet a perfume?

I see my Syn by the bar as I step into the chapel. Incense wafts in slowly drifting spirals from the bowls. The smell of burning candles.

And death. Even here, in this place of old worship. If you know what your smelling it's there.

I feel his eyes on me; I lift my glasses from my face and meet his gaze for a second then look down. The proper lady in the presence of her husband. I feel my hair cover my face. I can feel his eyes on me as I stand still for his inspection.

I only glance up when I hear music. I know this will be a good night when three of my favorites begin to play together. Like rowdy children they seem to squabble till Tina brings them all into order with her power.

I watch him move. Encased in black leather pants and a charcoal gray shirt my Syn is beautiful to behold. His hair, a stark white, falls to mid back, held back from his face with a bit of leather from one of the broken whips. I remember the night I broke the thong across his back in my excitement. He was whipped bloody yet totally in control of me that night.

He hands me my glass. I lift it to my nose and shiver as the sexy smell floods my senses. I smile as He offers a silent toast.

I drink half of mine in three quick sips. The weight of the day settling onto me again in his presence. I set down my glass and go to him. I feel his powerful hands on my shoulders holding me in his protective embrace. The feel of the linen shirt under my face distracts me. I want bare skin.

He lifts my face and places a soft kiss upon my lips, then a second harder one, his tongue demanding entrance. I give it, but feel my blood rise at the presumption.

As I step back from him I rest my ring on his cheek and slowly slide the edge of the blade across his skin. I leave not a scratch. I cut only when I mean too.

I send a button to the floor. Then another. Then all the rest. I slip his shirt free to fall and hang from his waist, like black discarded skin.

Looking into his eyes I place my finger into the middle of his chest and push him to the table behind. I see the flinch when he hits the wood.

I watch the red trail with horrible fascination as is snakes its way across his hairless chest.

Stooping down I lick the essence of life from his skin back to the place I cut him. I shiver and my breath becomes a pant as I start to suck at the flow from its source.

Dropping my hand to my thigh and I slide it up my legs under my skirt and into the warm pool that is my sex. The hard metal of my ring finds the hard metal of my piercing. I shiver as the two meet like old lovers.

I can feel the dangerously sharp edge brush my skin, maybe shaving away the few remaining hairs I may have missed.

I can hear a slick wet sound as I feel the flood begin. I have always been a very wet woman when aroused. The taste of his blood in my mouth has always been the strongest aphrodisiac I know.

His hands close on my waist and he lifts me effortlessly into the air. He carries me to the bar. The polished wood spanks my ass hard as he sets me down.

His hand is strong demanding me to lay down. I feel the cold metal of the draft pull next to my face I turn and lick the copper sides of the pipe. A taste of old beer and copper, like the blood of a drunkard maybe. I writhe feeling his hands on me.

I watch as he worships my boot like a proper slave should. He can be that. A slave who is still the master because he lets himself be the slave for his own pleasure. I shiver at the hot fell of his breath on the side of my foot as he kisses first one side then the other.

Then his lips descend down my leg. I shudder in anticipation of his lips on my lips. His hands, hard and firm cup my ass cheeks as he lifts me to his mouth.

The feeling of his mouth as he moves the hood piercing around is like nothing I can describe. Until it had the piercing done I could not even have imagined this pleasure let alone describe it to someone who doesn't have one. Then his tongue is all over me.

Exploring places it's been so many times before. Like walking the halls of your house in the dark. Knowing where to step without the need for light.

Reaching down I slide my ring to the side of my clit. The metal brushes the piercing. I moan as I tap the blade into my skin to the side. I feel the blood engorged skin release it bounty to his tongue. I feel the rough edge of his tongue lashing at the bloody flow.

I bring my leg around to the back of his head and my hand to the top. He confessed to me once he loves the feeling of being smothered in a woman's wet lips. I oblige him as often as I can.

I clutch at the bar tap as he goes to work on me with a pleasure and a skill I have never found the equal of.

My fingers dig into his hair as I feel a rush starting deep inside me. It comes up from my spine in a tingling flow that has me moaning, then screaming. I clutch him to me tightly as I shudder and scream. I rest my face against the cold metal as he moves away from me.

Then I'm penetrated! It goes into me in a steady push, slick and cold feeling. I feel my lips distend outward as it thickens. I moan when pleasure takes a turn towards pain. Still he pushes it into me.

Then I feel his tongue back at work. It runs around the edge of the glass and my skin pushing me into the bumpy bottle. Then his tongue is back at the cut. Then back at my clit.

I can't stand it any more!

With a scream that strips my throat I cry to the heavens for release. The goddess answers me with a black shroud that closes around me like the gentle night.

I wake slowly wishing I hadn't, I feel a soft hand on my stomach. It shakes me.

"Be..."

That name! Spoken here!

I'm sitting up on the bar looking at him before I even realize what I have done. I bring my hands to my mouth in horror. The blade of the ring before my eye is dripping blood to my cheek. I feel it washed away by my tears as I hop down and go to him.

I hurts me to see Syn flinch from my touch. I take his face in firm hand and inspect the damage.

I sigh in relief that it's only a little more than a deep scratch.

Then I see the drop of blood drip from his chin to his chest.

I attack his face with a fury I can't contain. I drive pools of blood before my tongue seeking to swallow it all.

Shivering as the hot coppery flavor floods my mouth with a pleasure taste I love second only to one.

And I want that one.

My knees hit the cold floor with hard sharp pain. I snatch at his belt and tear the buttons open on his pants.

His cock as I pull it out is already dripping a stream of cum from the tip. I take him deep into my mouth tasting precum and leather and sweaty man all at once. It mixes with the blood taste to drive me to heights of lust I rarely reach.

I clutch at him fighting my bodies safely switches. I push him deeper even as I feel myself needing to breathe. The rush of that is intense. I knew from this feeling what he had meant when he said he likes to be smothered in pussy.

Unable to breathe, choking on his cock, I finally have to pull back. A short breath to still my panicked lungs and I'm back with my nose pressed into the soft skin at the base. I move my tongue the metal ball tracing a thick vein on the underside.

His hands take hold of my head and he puts my mouth to it's true purpose. I feel the control of my master as he takes control from me.

I feel the wet weep down my thighs as he uses my mouth for his pleasure. I begin to miss the blood taste I had at first. It's been washed away by spit and cum.

I want it back. I bring my hand up to his cock and wrap my fingers around it. I let the head pump my lips as I tighten my fingers. I feel the tip engorge with blood.

The cut is minimal. But the flesh is so blood filled it sprays into my mouth. I swallow it down only to be filled again. Then warm cum joins the taste and the two mix to become my new favorite taste. I feel my cheeks suction in by the force of my mouth. I do not relent the taste is so overwhelming I want more, More, MORE!

And then my wishes are granted. I feel a second flow poor out onto my tongue. I swallow this blessing as he shudders.

I'm thrown to the floor as he collapses into the chair panting for breath. I sit there breathing hard watching him watching me. My eyes drop to where he's leaking all over his leather pants.

Wastes not, want not.

I crawl to him and clean the flow from the warm leather. In long slow licks. I look up at him.

I smile.

My darling Syn is spent. Drained in all ways.

I climb to my feet and go to get my clutch purse. I retrieve his drink and kill the rest of mine at the same time.

With gentle care I clean up his cuts, washing the skin with a mind to his pain. I bandage the deep place on his face and the puncture on his chest. The one on his cock has already stopped.

I hear laughter in the distance. I place him back into his pants. His fingers begin to help mine as he hears the voices.

I go to the bar when they walk in. Several of our regulars. Some I know very well indeed.

I watch the red head Zazzel go to him. I smile as she hugs him. I know my smell is all over him. One of them asks if it's too early for some shots of Jagger.

"Only if you have no desire to remember the night." I tell him smiling

Bringing out the frost-covered bottle I fill a line of glasses.

I smile at Syn and the girl. One toy a night was our deal. We each may choice one toy a night to play with if we wish. Looks like Zazz is offering herself as that for tonight.

As I wipe the bar I stop seeing the pool of blood on the counter. Blood and my juices. I dip my fingers into it and turn to the big mirror behind me.

The line from the 'Watchman' comes to mind. I write it on the silvery surface in the mixture of juices.

"God help us all'

Sucking my fingers like they're candy I turn and look back at Syn. Our eyes meet and I see his feral grin.

I lift my ring from the bar and slide it up my stained lace.

Baethny the Daughter in Syn.

'The Daughter'.

I eye the young woman draped around my Syn with the look of a child in a candy story. Yes she will be sweet.