Posted by: jeannebarrack1 | July 7, 2008

R-rated Excerpt: The Shimmering Flame

Nolen in The Shimmering Flame, is one of the most evil villains I’ve written. He perverts everything he touches; distorting and degrading people and ancient traditions. In this excerpt from the story, we witness this first hand.
EXCERPT:

Nolen turned as the staccato tap of her heels announced the arrival of Mrs. Scathan. “Did you hear? I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule our evening.”

“Shall I wait up for you? You may need me.”

Anyone seeing her now would never recognize her for the staid woman who guarded his door like a lioness. Her unbound bog-brown hair fell to her waist. She wore a jade-green silk caftan that caressed a surprisingly well-endowed figure. She fit into her daytime uniform by binding her breasts and wearing a tight girdle. No one could conceive of any sort of illicit relationship between the unsmiling, repressed widow and his lordship. And that was just the way they wanted it.

He smiled at her, his gaze filled with lust. “I’m not sure if you need to wait up. Why don’t you go to bed? If I need you, I’ll come to you.”

“No matter how late,” she urged.

He nodded. “You’re a gem.” He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her, his tongue thrusting deeply in her mouth. “Later,” he whispered.

“Aye.”

He let his hand cup her buttocks, then watched as she slowly mounted the stairs, holding her gown out of the way so it outlined her hips. His loins tightened. Mrs. Scathan’s utter devotion to his every whim and her total dedication to Ba’al was a gift he cherished. She never tired and never denied him when he came to her bed. Though it had not come to it yet, he knew she would kill or die for him.

He entered the manor’s spotless kitchen, opened the backdoor and moved through the kitchen herb garden. The scents of thyme, sage, and basil, mixed with more exotic odors, assailed him. The garden was Mrs. Scathan’s domain and she tended it with care. The farther he progressed through its orderly rows, the more rank and foul the smells issuing from the plants, herbs and roots.

Ahead, he discerned the Sacred Grove of the Nine Trees, the varied colors of the oak, ash, thorn and the other woods, pleased the eye. Bright pink apple blossoms clinging to the branches, decorated the circle like frosting on a wedding cake. He halted between two stalwart oaks and stripped off his clothes, standing naked save for a bronze amulet of power hanging on his chest, and let the fresh, spring air caress his skin. Folded neatly at the base of the tree were his vestments and the other tools necessary for the evening’s task. He slipped into the ankle-length robe made of soft linen, grasped his equipment and quietly murmured the proper incantations for success. He strode counterclockwise around the Grove and then entered Ba’al’s domain.

He summoned the raven, Dubhanam. The bird would make far better time searching for a sign of the American female than he would. He presented her picture to him and her jacket for her scent and the bird flew off.

Nolen closed his eyes and joined with the high-flying raven, looking through the bird’s eyes as he soared over the forest. Together, they flew over the ancient campsite. Mil’s three soldiers were gathered around a fire, huddling together for warmth. Dagda’s cave came into view and the quiet work site. Carrigclarseach appeared and through the windows, the raven saw the town’s inhabitants all neatly tucked in their beds.

But not a sign of the woman.

By the left testicle of Ba’al, where was she?

He ground his teeth in frustration and dragged off his robe. Stooping, he picked up his everyday clothes and strode back into the mansion. He tossed his garments on a chair in the kitchen, knowing that his devoted housekeeper would put them away neatly for him.

At times like this, he needed Mrs. Scathan’s enthusiastic submission.

Naked, he took the stairs to her room two at a time and entered without knocking.

She was waiting for him, sitting unclothed on the side of the bed, her hands neatly folded in her lap. She looked up as he entered and frowned. “Is all well with you, Master?”

“Did I give you leave to speak?”

He slapped her across the face and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. Her tongue snaked out to taste it and her eyes closed in ecstasy. She fell to the floor and crawled to his feet. “I beg you, please forgive me.”

“Silence! I don’t wish to hear a word from you! If you utter a sound tonight…”

She rose to her knees and clasped his legs, pressing her face just below his outthrust cock. “Please, Master…”

He grabbed her hair and dragged her head back. “Did you hear a word I said? Now, use that mouth for something better than talking.”

She knew exactly what he wanted. He watched impassively as she positioned her body so that she could take in as much as possible of his erection. He allowed her to steady her legs as she swallowed him inch by inch. After years of practice, she had become adept at sucking him deeper than any other female before her. He moved rhythmically, debating whether he should come in her mouth or her ass.

If he took her from the rear, he could bind her. “Get up. Go to the bed. Lie down on your belly and present yourself. Don’t say a word if you wish to receive me tonight.”

She suckled him hard one more time, then did as he instructed. Nolen went to the nightstand and removed the coarse twine he kept for very special evenings. He eyed the ragged, scabby wounds around her wrists. No one knew that the reason she wore cuffed sleeves was to conceal the welts from their sexual encounters.

He licked his lips.

He moved onto the bed and straddled her, his penis nudging the crack between her butt cheeks. Taking her right hand, he wound the twine around her wrist and attached one end to the bedpost, then did the same with her left hand. He pulled tightly. If she moved too much, she would re-open the scabs on her wrists.

He knew she would move.

He smiled, his mouth a cruel slash. “Remember–one sound from you, one murmur, one moan and I’ll stop, otherwise I’ll continue until I’ve had enough of you. Nod if you understand me.”

She nodded.

“Good. This is my night. I am your Master.”

And he took her until her wrists bled, and she bit her lip so hard that crimson beads dripped onto the sheets when she came. He took her until she lay unmoving beneath him, glorying in her ability to satisfy him, thrilled that she had fulfilled his demand of her.

She hadn’t uttered a sound.

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