The Cellar Ch. 05

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jiskitten
jiskitten
141 Followers

"Right, okay. I'll see you next week then... thanks. Good..."

Joelle heard the receiver click and then nothing more.

"Bye."

The tears came again in ceaseless waves, only this time she was prepared for them and, this time, she charged into the shower and let the pelting water shield her agony. For a moment she wished Delilah hadn't come, that her life could have been snuffed out, the way it was intended to be. But more than anything, Joelle wished for a way to block the pain.

Rushing from the shower she pulled off her sodden clothes, rubbed herself down with a towel and redressed as quickly as she could. "Where are the keys?" she demanded as she rushed into the living room.

"What keys?" asked Delilah, peeking from between the pages of her book on Greek Mythology.

"To the car," Lucien answered before Joelle could spit out the words. "They are on the kitchen counter, why?"

"I'm going out."

"I see, just a quick fix?" he asked in that smug tone that made her want to whack him over the head with something heavy.

"Fuck you Lucien!" she thundered as she rushed toward the kitchen.

In a whirl of muted colors, she was over his shoulder and not a moment later, she found herself sprawled across the bed.

"Deal with it another way," he said as he walked out and closed the door.

"I fucking hate you!"

***

It was to be her very last afternoon at the house and, despite the agony of god's searing light, Lucien roused himself from bed and went to find her.

She was beautiful, standing in the resplendent glow of afternoon sun, the beads of light kissing the golden hues of her auburn hair. He watched plaintively from the mouth of the kitchen as she busied herself with an omelet, gently folding the edges over a mound of green peppers; her nightgown tightly hugging her glorious body as she moved about the stove.

"Are you going to come in or are you just going to just stand there staring?" she asked without looking away from the skillet.

"Joelle, is there anything I can do to win your forgiveness? Just tell me and I will gladly do it."

"Stop beating the shit out of me, there's a start."

"Done. What else?"

"Break it off with Annette and stop seeing other women."

"Joelle..."

"You know, I sound disturbingly like a battered woman. Please stop beating me, please stop fucking other women, please don't pledge eternity to someone else. Do you realize how pathetic that sounds? Do you know that if I ever heard another woman saying those things I'd be utterly repulsed? And yet here I am, ruler of planet stupid, queen of the morons, saying them right now, to you."

"You are not stupid."

"Then tell me you love me, tell me you'll break any promise in the world to be with me, tell me you'd never do anything to hurt me again, tell me your eternity will be spent with me. Can you tell me all of those things Lucien?"

"If those are the terms, then I will do all that you have asked of me, just afford me the time with which to accomplish it."

"You're a liar!"

"Joelle..." Lucien watched helplessly as she tossed the frying pan into the sink and rushed from the kitchen. Moments later he heard the bedroom door slam, promptly followed by the sound of her sobbing.

***

It appeared as though they might be doomed after all. Joelle's flight was due to leave first thing in the morning and despite all attempts to change her mind, there was still a small pile of luggage by the front door. Who could blame her really? She was right. She'd made so many sacrifices and he'd repaid her with pain and anguish. It was hardly a fair trade.

Lucien was really the sole beneficiary of their relationship. His rules were abided by with very little complaint; she surrendered herself to him at every whim and in whatever manner he chose; she had lived in his home with the knowledge of what took place within its walls and, most of all, she seemed to love him in spite of what he was.

Lucien stood in the open doorway to their bedroom for what felt like hours, watching her sleep. What a remarkable creature, he thought. Sexy and smart, beautiful and kind, spectacular in bed; and what was he? He was a beast.

Very gently he closed the door and walked to the bed, pulling the clothes from his body, and taking his place beside her. "Joelle," he beckoned her awake, "Joelle."

"Hmmm?" she groaned into the pillow.

"Marry me Joelle," whisperingly he pleaded.

"Shut up, you're already engaged and I'm not Mormon."

The constant pestering was getting a little annoying. But, if truth be told, the reason it was becoming increasingly annoying was because, with each passing day, she found it harder to tell him no.

"Marry me. I will not going to stop asking until you say yes."

"You're going to give yourself laryngitis."

"I'll live, marry me," he insisted, tugging at her pillow.

"Marry you? Like in a church with a priest and a white dress, saying the Lord's prayer and all that?"

"If that is what it took, then yes."

"Hmmm. I might just do it for the sheer joy of watching you squirm."

"Pick a day and I will be there."

"Day? You mean like during the daytime?"

"Yes, for you I would even suffer that."

Joelle rolled onto her back and stared into his eyes. "You're actually serious, aren't you?"

"Deadly."

"Huh. And what about Annette? How exactly would you reconcile that?"

"Perhaps I can make some inquiries; there are several -- resources at my disposal, with any luck I may be able to find a solution. All you need to do is say yes and I will tend to the details."

"No, I'm not marrying you, you moron."

"Fine, I will concede, but only if you agree to stay with me Joelle."

"No." She rolled onto her stomach again and shoved a pillow over her head. Stupid demon, she thought, who the hell was he to come in and ask ridiculously absurd questions like that? Marry him? Demonic idiots don't get married. They run around and fuck up people's lives, they don't dabble in wedded bliss.

Why couldn't she have picked some normal schlump named Bob who punched a clock every day? How'd she wind up with Lucien, The Dark Lord of Orgyville? And she didn't just pick him, she loved him.

"What are you thinking about?" Lucien asked, slipping the sheet from her back and drawing a finger up her spine.

"Whether there's still a seventy two hour hold when you try to kill yourself."

"What were you really thinking about?" he prodded, pulling the pillow away.

"I was thinking about how utterly insane I am for being here with you right now. I was thinking that I should find an accountant named Bob, so I can have two point four kids and a Volvo and a dog named Sparky. And I was thinking about how none of that can ever happen because my fucked up ass is so stupidly in love with you."

"I think your ass is perfect," he said, kissing the small of her back.

"Oh shut up."

Lucien did shut up, but promptly returned to his skin play, kissing her back and tracing his fingertips across her shoulder.

"I'm on to you Lucien, this is exactly what happened the last time and I'm not falling for it again. You had your goodbye fuck, you don't get another."

Silence. That jerk.

With a sharp gasp, she found herself firmly planted atop his pelvis, his full length impaling her. She wasn't even certain how the whole thing happened. In one moment she was lying on her stomach, trying to ignore his sensual kisses and skillful fingers, and in the next, she was filled with his turgid cock. What was even more disturbing was that she had no desire for it to be any other way.

"Joelle, I need you, stay."

"No, Lucien I..."

As he moved to adjust her position, Joelle lost herself in the feel of him inside her. It was the first time he'd ever let her on top and the very first time he'd relinquished complete control. In that moment, more than anything, she wanted to say yes. Yes, she would stay with him forever, for as long as his forever was, to be bound to him and forgo a human existence. But as much as she wanted to say the word, and as simple a word as it was, she simply couldn't. So instead, she intended to make love to him for the last time -- again.

Slowly, she pulled him out and worked him back in, enjoying the feel of every inch, as she patiently consumed him. Though his hands lay gently against her waist, he made no move to direct her and seemed immersed in the feeling.

Her eyes locked on his, sultry and wanton. "Did you miss fucking me?"

"More than you can imagine," he hissed through clenched teeth, his breathing ragged.

Joelle jerked her hips and thrust him inside, eliciting a throaty growl. "Does your cock feel good inside me?"

"Euphoric," his voice hitched.

She slowly coaxed him out and left him to linger there, just inches from her hot slit. "Then why?" she asked as she lay across his chest.

"Joelle, I never intended... I tried everything... you have to believe it was never my intention to harm you."

"You killed me, you didn't 'harm' me."

"I am painfully aware of that. If sparing you that pain were within my power, even if it meant the forfeiture of my own life, I would gladly do it."

"Do you want to keep fucking me Lucien?" Joelle taunted him, sliding her clit the length on his shaft, covering its entire girth with the juices he so desperately desired. And when he appeared on the verge of explosion she let him probe the very edges of her vulva.

"Yes," he growled, "please."

"Do you swear on everything you hold sacred, on your very life, do you swear on your soul, nothing like that will ever happen again?" As the words spilled from her lips, she could hardly believe she was saying them.

"I swear to you Joelle."

Joelle ground her hips against him, rolling his cock between her moist thighs before sliding her clit down his shaft again.

"I want you to say it Lucien."

"Joelle, I swear on my marker, the one object which tethers my human form to this world, the only instrument which allows my soul the freedom from eternal imprisonment, that I will never again harm you. Should I fail in that promise, you may have it to do with as you please."

"Thank you."

Joelle wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him against her chest, sliding him inside as she fervidly tasted his mouth. He groaned as she reached the base of his cock and slowly eased herself off. She played with him gently, softly, letting him reach her core and slowly teasing him back out.

She enjoyed him endlessly, slowing when he seemed close to coming, quickening when she wanted to. And he let her have total control, without hesitation, seeming to enjoy her power as much as she.

Joelle finally let him enjoy his release and held him deep inside as his body jerked between her thighs, a sharp groan pouring from his lips.

"That was... you were... I am amazed," he whispered as she lay across his chest, keeping him trapped inside.

"Do you love me?" she asked seriously.

"No."

"No?" she snapped incredulously.

"Love is a privilege not extended to us. Perhaps your... perhaps He finds it disagreeable." Lucien jerked his thumb in the air and curled his lip.

"So you can't love me? That's sounds rather stupid. Did you miss me when you were gone?"

"Yes."

"And did you think about me all the time?"

"Every moment."

"And do you feel terrible when I'm hurt, or sad, or sick, or angry?"

"Yes, yes, yes and -- maybe, that all depends on whether or not you are angry with me."

"Okay, fine. So repeat after me," she cooed, "I..."

"I," he mirrored.

"Love..."

"Love."

"You..."

"You."

"Now say them all together -- I love you."

"I love you." He winced as if the sky might fall in on him.

"See, no lightning, no crash of thunder, everything's okay. I don't think God would mind at all if you loved me. In fact, I think he'd quite enjoy it."

"I see. Perhaps I am in more trouble than I had originally suspected."

"I love you Lucien."

He paused and considered her words. "It is entirely plausible that I may love you as well."

"I'll take it for now," she scowled.

Joelle draped like a blanket across him, seeming unwilling or unable to move and if it were possible to forgo all necessities and spend eternity beneath her, he would gladly make the sacrifice. But just as he began to slip fully into this new found state of bliss, she said the name he resented most.

"I think Annette loves you," Joelle whispered.

"I don't see what bearing that has on the matter, her feelings are inconsequential to me. As a matter of fact, if she holds me to our accord it will most certainly cause my feelings of irritation to change to absolute loathing. I hardly see the payoff."

"Love is foolish and impulsive, but most of all, love is blind. Just the fact that I'm here with you now, more than proves that theory."

"I see your point."

***

When Annette discovered Joelle hadn't moved back to Detroit, as she had promised to do, the pressure mounted and Lucien found himself juggling excuses in an attempt to buy himself more time.

With every passing day, her intensity and impatience grew. She was no idiot, with Joelle still at the house and Lucien's increasingly pathetic excuses, it was clear to see that he was merely stalling for time. He'd attempted to barter, offering her other options which would bring about the same result, but it seemed as though Joelle was correct in her assessment. It appeared that Annette sought more than eternity; she sought an unbreakable bond with him.

Lucien's only hope, his only option left, was the intervention of an Elder, though this was tricky business. The Ancients were far more savvy and sophisticated, and they were also masters of manipulation. Show too much of your hand and you risked losing it all, show too little and any deal you attempted to make was off the table. Negotiating with another of his ilk required precision and a skillful tongue, negotiating with an Elder required a level of dissociation and trickery that was nearly impossible to pull off successfully. But irrespective of his hesitation, his promise to Joelle had been cast and he intended to satisfy it.

Reluctantly, Lucien made his way into the cellar and took his place upon the cathedra. Within a tick, a searing cold enveloped him and he had crossed over into a realm devoid of color and filled with the stench of decay. An arched gateway loomed on the empty, monochrome horizon, its thick stone pillars adorned with gnarled limbs, twisted fingers and screaming mouths. A quick shudder consumed his body as he stepped forward and pushed through the gate, eager to end his journey to find a messenger.

"Welcome my friend!" a shrill voice greeted him as the gate slammed shut.

"Charming," Lucien growled at the grotesque creature which had wrapped itself around his feet and stared back with unblinking, obsidian eyes.

"There is a message you would like for me to deliver?" It stroked like a cat against his leg and Lucien was overwhelmed by a desire to kick it.

"I require a meeting."

"Consider it done my liege."

With the closure of his lids, he felt the chill slip away, replaced by the warm, dry heat of the cellar enveloping his body. When his eyes opened, the color of life returned and he released the air he had held hostage in his lungs, breathing in the earthy scents of home.

For the next several days, Lucien forewent the pleasures which awaited him in the bedroom and remained in the confines of the cellar. On the sixth day, he finally relented and returned to Joelle's side, resigned to the fact that salvation might not come in the form of an Elder. But what would come next, he had no idea and he struggled with how to keep all of the promises he was now tethered to.

***

A pounding at the front door startled Joelle from her nap, spilling her from the couch. "Damn it!" she snapped as she crawled to her feet and rushed to the door, flinging it open.

"Lucien please," the smiling stranger asked from just beyond the open door. He was a handsome man, very refined and impeccably dressed, in a grey wool, three piece suit and thin, rimmed glasses. Since he was far too elegant to be a salesman and way too handsome, she assumed he was demon, in daylight no less.

"He's not up yet. Can I help you?"

"My apologies, my name is Barbas. Lucien has called on me to visit with him," he said in a voice as rich as velvet. Quickly he gathered her hand and kissed it.

"Please come in," Joelle stumbled, pushing open the door.

Barbas stepped in and strolled casually to the suede sofa in the living room. "Lucien's home is much lovelier than I remember, or perhaps it is the new addition." Barbas sank into the lush chestnut sofa, his eyes never leaving Joelle.

"Can I offer you some coffee? Maybe something to eat?"

"Thank you, no, I am quite satisfied. Please, come sit with me." Barbas motioned to the tiny square of available sofa beside him. "It seems forever since I have visited with my dear friend Lucien. Please, do tell me, how is he fairing?"

"He's well," Joelle offered reluctantly.

"I assume you to be a consort of some kind?"

"Just acquaintances," she offered.

"I see, pity."

Joelle tried her best to duck and weave the more probing questions, keeping her answers as short and succinct as possible. When it came to questions about their relationship, Joelle thought it best to make it appear as benign as possible.

It seemed as though the interrogation would go on forever and, just as she had begun to really sweat, she heard the bedroom door slam shut.

"Go upstairs Joelle!" Lucien snarled as he rushed down the stairs.

"It appears as though we have riled the beast," Barbas laughed as he grasped Joelle's hand, pulling it to his pursed lips. "My lady, it was an honor."

"It was very nice to meet you," Joelle offered, clutching her stomach as a wave of nausea filled her throat.

Lucien grabbed her tightly by the arm and dragged her up the stairs, slamming closed the bedroom door as soon as they were inside.

"What did you tell him?"

"What? I didn't tell him anything! What are you talking about?"

"I am dreadfully sorry. Of course you didn't."

"What's going on?"

"Barbas is my -- superior, for lack of a better word."

"You could have told me he was coming, warned me or something. You should have seen me tap dancing down there, it was ridiculous."

"My apologies, I had given up on his response. I must meet with him." Lucien pulled her in for a quick kiss and flew from the room, the taste of her mouth still lingered heavy on his tongue as he took a seat across from Barbas.

"Please accept my apologies for not greeting you personally. Had I known you were coming during daylight hours I certainly would have availed myself."

"Quite alright, I had a splendid visit with your charming consort."

"She is no consort, she is merely a plaything."

"Ah, I see. Perhaps you would be wise to advise her of that."

"There is no need, her feelings are of no concern to me."

"Well, that certainly clarifies the matter. Shall we get to the business of your request?" Barbas asked, sliding deep into the comfort of the suede sofa and folding has hands neatly across his knee.

"Please."

Lucien tactfully, and with cautious explanation, revealed the nature of his dilemma. Though he divulged nothing more than a desire to break from Annette, he sensed Barbas' curiosity flare.

"You seek my help Lucien and so I will expect a return on my investment." Barbas smiled wickedly.

"What is it you require?" Lucien asked.

"I would very much like to know what makes this Joelle so special to you."

"She is -- very satisfying, though I would hasten to call her 'special'."

"So you have no feelings for her?" Barbas eyed him suspiciously.

"Other than pleasure, I have none."

"Good, then I too expect to find her very satisfying." Barbas' smile widened.

jiskitten
jiskitten
141 Followers