A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 04


Boots clicked on the cobbles from afar, out there where the fog still obscured everything from sight. And the girls knew they were expensive boots: they knew the stately way of walking from countless encounters in cheap inn rooms and alleys. They halted, and waited for the man (for who else would walk around carefree in the middle of the night?) to come closer. They saw a man clad in black approaching them, twirling a cane in his hand. His top hat and coat were beaded with dew, and his face was covered by a black scarf, save for his piercing blue eyes. The ladies took their usual stance, side by side along the old gas lamp near the entrance to the abbey. Fanny, lacking sleep and a clear state of mind, bared her breasts, still round and firm with small pink nipples, and grinned as the man's boots click-clacked to a halt and stopped right in front of the women. He held out a black-gloved hand, then turned it to the ground. Ample coins fell onto the cobbles, which cut the usual bidding openings for the ladies off as they stared in awe at the massive amount of money sprawled before them. Fanny's jaw dropped, and a trail of spittle trickled down from the corner of her mouth, while Daria prodded Tessy in disbelief.

"Just make it fast and worth while. All three of you", the man declared curtly. From the many black folds of cloth he pulled free his massive hardness, the tip round like a plum and almost as white as marble. Tessy got down to her knees, looking at her friends for a moment before her hand snagged her share of the bounty. She then showed why she got her nickname and swiftly had the stranger's shaft sliding in and out of her mouth with the skill of a professional. The others reached up on tiptoe to kiss their client, rubbing their bodies up against his with all of the feigned passion common to their trade. He gloved tugged at Fanny's swollen buds gruffly. She did not budge, instead she brought the man's cane between her legs and grinded her snatched against it, leaving it glistening with her teenage moisture. He pulled the cane back slapped her upside the head, his eyes narrowing above the scarf. 'you will not use my attire as toys. Play with her" he grunted, pulling Daria's hair and throwing her on the ground next to Tessy, who gummed his cock diligently. Fanny made her hand vanish under Daria's skirt, pawing at her clumsily as she leant into kiss the man's balls. Daria followed suit and before long, all three of them were licking and caressing the man's shaft. The man screamed, a hoarse cry and the women giggled, expecting a royal tip in the form of the man's seed, but instead he dropped his cane, grabbed the outer two's heads and slammed them both into the sides of Tessy's head, who clamped her gums down on his pale head in a violent response. Fanny fell back, knocked unconscious while Daria cursed all the saints as she clutched her head. The man swiftly took his cane and brought it down hard on the toothless wench, the blows coming faster and faster, not even giving her the time to scream.

"Bastard!" Daria roared as she sprang to her feet, but a kick in the stomach made her double over. The last thing she saw were black thumbs pressing her eyes deep inside her sockets, black blood mingling with the satin before he snapped her neck and left her head lolling askance on her neck before her lifeless body crumpled onto the cobbled stones.

When Fanny opened her eyes, She saw the man towering over her. It was as if an angel had donned the man's clothes, a face more beautiful than any she had ever seen, struck with both joy, hunger and endless melancholy all at once. Then he fell upon her, felt a wave of bliss that made her tummy tickle, and...

"My God I'm dying". Her last breath was spent on her first words and her epitaph.

A guttural cry filled the grounds of Carfax Abbey, then booth clicked swiftly away into the night, fading as the church bells all over London chimed the end of the night and the impending arrival of dawn's first light.


When the sky turned orange, a slender figure skulked in the last remaining shadows of the night. The stupor of sleep tried to cajole her into making her abandon her vigil, to just go inside and sink into oblivion, but she had to wait out until he returned. Soon her struggle was rewarded. Carrying a bundle under his arm, he strode toward the house, slipping in and out of view. It was a new trick he must have learned, one that made it hard for Katrina to see what he carried with him. Sleep made it even harder for her to focus, but she did see him leap up and into the open window. She heard him descend into the cellar, heard the familiar sound of the oblong box creaking open and shut, followed by a sound alien to her ears. It was metallic. Relieved at finally being able to give in to her instincts, yet agitated at the fact that her lover (or tormentor? slave?) moves about without her knowing what he is up to, she hovered over to the front door and went downstairs as well. The bundle was nowhere to be seen, and when her body had fallen into her coffin, she lazily hissed at what she beheld. There was a lock on Edmund's coffin. She collapsed and closed the lid without an active thought.

Nobody refuses my gift and lives to tell the tale, my darling little boy. And how ungrateful you are, first surrendering your heart to my loins, only to stab me in the back.

Katrina's eyes shot open one last time, before she lapsed into nightmare. Naught but silence and unspoken grievances lingered.

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