The Choices of Evelyn Ch. 13-15

"Now look at you," she went on. "So sweet, so nice. You came so far, didn't you, cara mia? You belong with Evelyn, darling, you have so much in common.

"You see, while you were working on your own improvement, Evelyn did too. Each in your own warm stable. All these days and nights she lived here, like you, and so very close to you, learning to fight her fears and embrace her true self."

The woman smiled her scariest smile. She looked straight at Evelyn now, who stared at her dirty feet, her hand caressing the horse's neck. The words of the woman leaked past her crumbling defenses, only to fall into a void. All she wanted was to close her eyes and crawl into the horse – dig herself into it, to never be seen again. But the woman didn't let her. She walked over with big, resounding strides and pulled Evelyn away from Votan, easily overcoming her resistance. She pushed her against Sandro's shaking body. The boy's racing breath touched her face as the metal piercing scratched her skin.

"I know how you feel, the both of you," the woman said, her face close to theirs. "Hhhhhorny, so deliciously, awfully horny. And now here you are – just inches apart from a blood-hot body that's ooooozing need as much as you do; a need that has been denied you for so long.

"Can you taste it, Sandrito? Lil' Evita? Mmmmm... to touch another horny, aching body after all these days and nights of frustrated lust..." The woman giggled, pushing the girl and the girly boy even closer together. "Remember your nightmares?" The blonde whispered now, her mouth breathing the words into Evelyn's ear. "The visits, the monsters? Were they really dreams? Or were they...? Oh, oh, noooo..." Turning to Sandro, she giggled again.

"Remember how rough they were?" she went on. "How they fucked your innocent little asshole? It was all a dream, you said to yourself, or was it? A nightmare. At first maybe, ah yes, but later on? Aaahh, well... not so much a nightmare in the end." She clucked, shaking her head. "You, naughty boy." She returned to Evelyn, frowning with mock compassion.

"Pain," she said, "fear, panic, they don't matter, do they? In the end, they're not real. You need to get past them, and you did, remember? You needed to come, notwithstanding the pain, the humiliation – or, finally, maybe because of it. Weeks and weeks it lasted, but you never came, did you? Never ever... oh, poor girl." Evelyn just stared out of leaking, unseeing eyes. "My pretty bald slut." The woman's lips touched the girl's ear as her nails scratched her skull. "You were always almost there, remember? ... Ooooooh... Al-al-almost, almost, al..." She sucked on Evelyn's earlobe. Then she let go of them both, laughing heartily, shaking her leather-packed hips. Just as suddenly, her eyes turned grave again, almost sad.

"Yes," she said. "I know. I'm horrible, a horrible woman, torturing you like I did. Driving you into such a desperate state, knowing you could not even help yourself.

"Both your cunts were aching, girl-cunt, boy-cunt, day and night. But I closed them with a little metal plate, small and elegant, making you look so mmmmm... kinky. It might as well have been an iron gate, though, to scratch at with your desperate fingers, breaking your precious nails.

"Oh, cruel me!"

The woman's mock graveness had gone by then, as she snickered with glee. Her hand found her own breast. She fondled it through the supple leather. Then she went on.

"It must have been hell, darlings. But now... good news: it's high time to finally take you to heaven." Evelyn and the boy stood almost nose to nose, clouded emerald staring into darkened sapphire. They didn't answer. Then the woman pulled Sandro away. She produced a key and removed the triangular metal plate that guarded Evelyn's crotch. Her bare pussy looked swollen inside a reddish triangle from the plate's edges. It shone with sweat and juices that started trickling down her dirty inner thighs, leaving brighter traces.

"Clean her," M said, pushing the boy into Evelyn's arms. Suppressing a gag, Sandro turned his tear-streaked face away, but the woman slapped it hard. "I said: clean her." Whimpering like a scared pup, the boy sank to his knees and brought his face to the Evelyn's pussy. It stank with stale sweat, old urine and fresh arousal. Almost retching, he took his pink tongue to the skin and started licking off the grime. The thought of resisting the woman's command might have been working its way up through layers of accumulated shock and conditioning, but it never reached the surface. He licked the trembling skin with long strokes, until he filled the air with shameless slurping sounds. It triggered Evelyn at once, pushing her to the edge of climax, the maddening point where she'd been teetering all these nights and days, weeks, maybe. It made her whimper through clenched teeth, her head shaking left and right in disbelief. Her wide-open mouth gasped as an elusive, impossible reality started shaping itself yet again in her parched mind: she'd come, she'd finally, finally come.

The tongue took her closer... closer. But it couldn't be, could it? It wouldn't. Or..? She trembled as the heat spread across her body like a wildfire, burning into every niche until her whole body was in flames. But, of course, it couldn't be. Through a haze she saw the woman grab the boy's slim shoulder and pull him off her gasping pussy. "Shhh," she said, "Not yet; down, boy, easy." Evelyn mewled with frustration, but the moan had an edge of resignation. Her hands clawed about, trying to find a face, a tongue, any kind of friction for her howling need. When her fingers finally found her dripping pussy, the woman grabbed them, pulling the girl up to herself and kissing her open mouth deeply, while her free hand cupped the glowing crotch.

It pulsated under her touch. Evelyn's mind buzzed as the last vestiges of reason drowned under waves of insanity, pounding at the crumbling dams around her reservoir of pent-up frustrations. Then the blond woman strangled the almost-climax until it faded yet again into a simmering quagmire of denial. She let go of Evelyn, standing back and watching her shaking body from under frowning eyebrows. She clucked her tongue and betrayed her excitement with a speeding of her breath. Finally, she picked up the leash that was still attached to Sandro's collar. Pulling at it, she dragged the boy to his knees. She slapped his face twice and pushed him to Evelyn.

"Now make her come, slut. Don't be selfish, she earned it." Sandro paused, disoriented for a while. Then he crawled to the bald girl who'd fallen to her knees in the dirty straw, still panting. "Eat her," the woman said, nudging the boy with the tip of her boot. "She earned it, I said. But make it last." Sandro brought his face to Evelyn's crotch again, breathing hot air on the puffed cunt lips. He started to spread them with the stiff tip of his tongue. Then he slid it up and down the length of the slick flesh, one finger searching for the uncovered pearl at the top.

Evelyn humped, groaning hoarsely as renewed need slashed through her exhausted body. Falling on her back, she arched it, pushing her pussy into the boy's face. Sandro withdrew at once, leaving the crazed girl to moan and beg, his eyes wide with fear and wonder. Then he dove into her again, his tongue disappearing inside the wet cave. His dirty fingernails tortured the pink, angry clit.

Evelyn started to ride the tongue, her mind torn between sheer, crazy need and the numb fear of more denial. She smashed screaming brakes on her stampeding train of lust. But there was no stopping, no control as the cruel tongue kept licking, the small white teeth biting, busy fingers rubbing. She screamed and thrashed in the straw, stirring up clouds of dust.

"Ah, God!" she cried and opened the gates to a flood of mutilated, breathless words. "Fuck me! Fuck me pleeeease!" she cried. Sandro obliged by sliding three fingers into the sucking cunt. His other hand kept rubbing the tiny button.

As the two filled the air with the sound of their licking and moaning and screaming, the woman turned away from them. She walked over to the door and rapped on it. It opened and a man, the chauffeur, Gustav, entered, wearing tight riding breeches and boots under his bare torso. He nodded at his boss's whispered words and went on to the horse. Ignoring the oblivious creatures on the floor, he unleashed the horse and led it out. Its hooves almost grazed Evelyn's thrashing head. She looked up through misty eyes. A hand rose hesitantly; then it fell back to her tit to pinch a nipple and pull at it. A deep groan followed the man and the horse as they left the stable.

Screaming hoarsely, Evelyn neared her edge for the umpteenth time in just as many days; and nights.

"Leave her to me now, Sandro," the blond woman said with a sweet, soft voice. The boy left Evelyn right at the brink of yet another eternally longed-for, hormone-enhanced, ever eluding orgasm. Sweat made her filthy skin gleam. Liquid highlights wriggled over her shaking limbs. She wailed and sobbed as her climax was yet again denied.

The boy scurried away to make room for the woman, who knelt between Evelyn's trembling knees. She brought her face close to the swollen cunt, blowing softly on it.

"Tell me, you, treacherous, stinking little whore... do you need me at all?" She blew again. A stretched, agonized moan left Evelyn's mouth. She dwelt on the utter fringe of insanity, pulling at her nipples and shaking her head right and left. Arching her back into a high bridge, she brought her steaming cunt closer to the woman's face.

"Pleeease" she croaked, spreading her thighs wider. The blond woman ordered Sandro to spread Evelyn's thighs as wide as he could. Then she raised her hand and slapped the puffed, exposed cunt viciously – three, four times, letting her long nails scratch the skin. Evelyn shook at each blow, whining with a high pitched, desperate voice – whimpering now, sobbing with forlorn desperation.

"Come for me now, little whore," the woman said, slapping the juice-slick, open cunt. "Now come for your true and only Mistress and be forgiven."

Another deep growl rose from the girl's throat. "Mm," she said, "mistr...miss..." She started to tremble all over. Her limbs stiffened, and she thrashed the floor with her hands. The woman leaned forward. She closed her mouth over the throbbing clit and sank her teeth into it. A back-breaking spasm sent Evelyn into a stupor. Her mouth opened wide, as did her eyes, but no sound came. She lay spread-eagled, her body tight as a bow. A gurgling rose from deep within her chest. Then she spasmed, shaking with a soundless explosion. And then another – and yet another.

The blond woman came up and stared deep into the wide, glazed-over eyes. She murmured honey-sweet words, caressing the fuzzy skull, kissing the brow as her fingers fucked on and on.

"My little whore," she said. "Why all this silly resistance? You're mine. You're mine, and you know it. It's so much better to be mine..." She hugged the girl and watched her unseeing eyes. From the other side of the stable's wall a horse whinnied over the sound of dancing hooves. Then a loud, dry gunshot cracked and echoed. The thud of a heavy body shook the floor.

A second shot followed.

The gray-eyed woman smiled. Then she curled the tip of her tongue around the tear that rolled down a dirty cheek.

***

Chapter Fourteen – Eva.

The high arches of a loggia gave out on Venice's Canal Grande. Little wavelets kissed the moldering feet of ancient palazzi. They were turned into molten gold by the sinking sun.

Leaning against the pillar of an open window, Eva half-sat on a stone sill and looked out over the canal. All kinds of boats and gondolas passed like silent flotsam. Apricot sunlight licked at the silver threads in her bodice. It painted high sweet curves where the corset pushed up her breasts. The full skirt spread from her waist in a cascade of shimmering silver-green, opening into a full-length split. One pale leg ran all the way from her hip to an embroidered silver-heeled mule. It dangled loosely from her toe.

She stared into the sun; its rays bathed her face, setting fire to her platinum wig. Her mouth pouted to hum a song. She had no memories of ever having been so happy. As a matter of fact, she had not many memories at all, did she? None that stretched back much farther than a few days. And hardly any thoughts that reached forward past the next hour. Ask her who she was, and she'd tell you her name is Eva.

Before last week there had not been an Eva. The itch at the top of her right ass cheek reminded her how young she really was. The mere thought of what happened, made her swollen slit flow. Half-hidden nipples strained to escape the bodice. There were no memories past that sting, were there? Unless you counted rumors and whispers. Outside the pink and gilded walls that enclosed her new-found little soul, you might hear muffled sobs of a girl, crying her heart out, but why listen? If you strained your ears, you might hear a whinnying horse, or a far-away, muffled gun shot. But why listen? Those were bad dreams, surely not memories? A strange sad girl it must be, and even stranger stories. It was so much easier to recall how Eva, her new sissy-brother and the sweet blue-eyed woman spent so many lazy hours in the big master bedroom. She'd slept with them in the four-poster bed. They'd bathed her over and over, grooming her with sweet ointment, soothing her, talking to her until their throats could only whisper. They'd made her drift off into the glow of their lovemaking. Such good memories they were, so why think of the sad little girl?

Why think at all?

Rumors and whispers are stubborn, though, and they kept sneakily returning to the wigged girl on the loggia; haphazard memories that might just as well have been someone else's. Like the memory of how the woman, M, had taken the strange, sad girl out of her little bedroom, after days and nights of tearful sorrow. She'd chained her to a horizontal bar at the center of a cage, deep down in the bowels of the big house. She remembered how the girl's arms (could they have been hers?) were hooked backwards over the bar, her ankles chained to a lower one. It made her hang with an arched back, pushing out her upper body and abdomen.

Eva puckered her mouth in the Venetian sun. Were these really her memories? No humming song left her lips now. She seemed to recall sweet Sandro crouching outside the cage to watch in silence, his dark little face pressed into cold bars. Why did he cry?

"Listen, slut," she remembered M saying to the girl in the basement, as she walked in front of her dangling body. "You should stop accusing me, it has been enough. I am not to blame, it was you who sacrificed Votan on the altar of your treacherous selfishness.

Do you understand?"

Votan.

She remembered how the bound girl's sobs had made her exposed tits tremble. Was she that girl? Or had she just been another watcher, like Sandro? The girl's eyes were shut. Her head lolled from left to right.

"I presume you don't," M had gone on. She'd produced a short leather whip. It had a long tail of braided hair. Stopping in front of the girl, she forced her to look up. Eva imagined her face to be ghastly pale, her bald skull fuzzy with regrown stubbles. The flesh around her eyes looked puffed and red.

"I think you make yourself ugly for me to have your revenge," M said. "You still blame me for his death, don't you, Evelyn?" Ah, so the girl's name had been Evelyn. She had stared at the woman, but she'd said nothing.

"Tell me, Evelyn," M's voice insisted, "you must tell me what you really feel. We need to get this out of your miserable soul; after all, it is destroying my property. So, let me help you find a way back to reality. Tell me! Why did you kill Votan?"

Votan. The name rang through the vaulted cellar. It echoed all around and made the dangling girl stiffen. Eva pitied her. She must have been scared by M. Why? She was Mistress, wasn't she?

"I... I..." she remembered the girl saying. Then she'd slumped her head on her chest and had cried again. So many tears. Poor girl, all alone. The woman with the darkened, angry eyes had stepped back. The whip traced an arc, its tip landing on an exposed tit, making it shake like pale jelly. The girl in Venice gasped, bringing her hand to her chest as her own nipple echoed the forgotten pain. The girl on the rack seemed so close to her now.

After three strokes on each breast M had stopped.

"You know, Evelyn," she'd said, her voice strained by the exercise. "This whip has been braided with the hair of your lover. Can you feel his anger?"

She made it land on the flesh again and again, and each stroke brought the miserable girl closer to the girl in the loggia – her pain, her thoughts, her misery. Eva felt a cloak of numbness descending on the girl, and an urge to slip away in despair, out to a place only she knew – a lost place that smelled of flowers and grassy meadows, alive with humming insects and whinnying horses.

It soothed her panic. But M saw where she tried to go and would have nothing of it. She screamed her insults and, jumping forward, tortured the girl's nipples with her teeth and nails. Then she drove the slick handle of the whip up the girl's vagina – her cunt, Eva's cunt.

"Don't you flee from me, you, damned bitch!" she cried. "First you betray me and then you flee, stealing what is mine? I think not!"

Why had the woman been so angry? She'd attacked the girl's tits with her exposed talons. Their flesh shone with a glowing red, Eva remembered, but in her mind, there was no memory of pain now, just a long-forgotten loneliness that had to end.

"You, bloody egoist and dirty traitor," the demonical woman went on. "Get here, get back to me!" The girl in Venice winced, recalling being dragged back from the gates of consciousness. She remembered resisting – and how that resistance melted away in a sudden, glaring light.

"Now... tell me!" Eva remembered the invading light, and how the girl Evelyn was torn up by a searing revelation.

"I?" she croaked. "I did? Nooooo..."

"Yesss..." M hissed. She pushed her face into Evelyn's, kneading her sore breasts with merciless fingers. The whole world was blue steel eyes now, and searing pain. "It was you," the voice insisted. "It was you who took his innocence. You, who had to turn him into your lover. Oh, my, Evelyn... you were so cruel. Did the creature even have a chance? You forced yourself on him. Then you used him to ridicule me. Did I have a choice?

"Now he's gone... because of you."

The girl gasped, and Eva gasped with her. She remembered hanging even heavier from the bars. Her new little brother had sighed in sympathy.

"Nooooo," she moaned. "Please, nooooo... Not me! It wasn't like that. I could never..." M didn't budge, sliding the now slick horse-hair through her gloved hand, where it hung out of Evelyn's throbbing cunt.

"Yes, Evelyn," she whispered with sad eyes. "You did. It was you. It was your arrogance that killed him. You knew you could never have him. But you were a coward. You could not find the courage to claim him and throw your love for him into my face. You ran – betraying both him and me. And still you could have saved him by staying away. But you couldn't, could you? You had to come back, too greedy to let him be and save your Votan." There was a long silence. Then the girl mumbled a few words.

"What did you say? Speak louder, girl," the blue-eyed woman said, holding her chin in her fist.

"Please let me die. I want to die." A cold shiver touched Eva in the loggia; an icy finger from a ghostly past. Back at the big house, M had closed the girl's mouth with a kiss. Then she'd licked and sucked the bruised breasts, while fucking her with the whip's handle. Right through her misery, she'd brought Evelyn to a shattering climax and two more. Finally, she'd looked down on her still twitching body and declared her fate.