You have my attention. Continue.

You have aroused my interest. Please continue post-haste.

Excelent story, and timed for the season. If not more of this story- the imagination feeds off that cliffhanger- then at least consider another tale in similar style?

Minor critique- the inner speech got disorienting, and that may be what you were going for, but it distracted from what otherwise was perfect. Maybe try a different format for the inner conflict?

The only time it was meant to be disorienting was during the dream. The rest of the time it was disorienting because I was disoriented while writing and didn't bother proofing. I have at least a couple more updates in the works, but I want to bring this story to a conclusion before terribly long. I don't know if the end of the story will be the last time I play with these characters, but I'm working on structure, conflict, tension, and resolution. Easier to practice those skills in a short setting.

You have aroused me. Do carry on.

Fuck you for not posting the completed story.

Fuck you so hard.

Update's more than half done, untwist your panties, princess. You're making a scene.

A line of white pain seared across my chest, intense and sudden. As it faded slowly to a dull throb, I again pondered my many shortcomings. Particularly my astounding ability to say unbelievably stupid things under duress. You'd think, when a preternaturally beautiful loli puts your hand on her hot, wet pussy, and asks what you want from her, there's really only one logical answer to give. Sex, I totally should have said sex. I can see that clearly now. Such a simple word, and fun to say! Fun to do! Why do I always have to make things more difficult than they need to be?

"Answers." I could still hear myself saying it, still remember the way the air had passed my lips. It had been so difficult to speak that I'd practically rasped it. I could still feel her shuddering with withheld laughter, see the wicked grin that spread slowly across her face, and hear her say, with a terrible finality, "Done."

I hadn't immediately worked out how blindfolding me, stripping me naked, and tying my wrists and ankles to a sturdy chair had to do with giving me answers, but she was not to be deterred. Any resistance was met with firm, unyielding coercion, and eventually I just gave up and went along with her new game. Only when she had me trussed, blind, and stark did she respond to my questions, and then she only responded to queries that could be answered with a 'yes' or 'no.'

Even then, she never said a word. I would ask a question, and she'd give me her response in the form of tactile sensation, most often pain. There were some caveats, though. If I repeated a question, or if a question was too similar to one I'd previously asked, I'd always receive pain in response. If I asked anything that required more than a yes or no response, I always got pain in reply. It was pretty clear pretty early on that pain was the 'no' response, but I made certain anyway by asking a few control questions about things I already knew, 'Am I tied up? Is your hair blonde? Is Michael Bay a talentless, pandering hack?' Things like that. The pain came in varying degrees. Usually it was mild, she'd pull out a chest hair, pinch a nipple, or dribble some hot wax on various bits of my anatomy. However, if she got annoyed, or if she wanted to imply a strong negative she'd use her nails or teeth. I could feel the blood trickling from a dozen scratches and punctures.

It was when I guessed right that things got interesting. A soft kiss, a tender caress, a tongue trailing along my neck or ear, a nipple brushing across my lips, each tender affirmation made a thousand times more intense by the uncertainty. My nerves were alive to each touch in the same way I'd felt on a really good high. My dick was confused as hell, but unlike me, it was an optimist, and remained at full attention, just in case its services should be required. If I asked a particularly good question, she might brush her cheek along one side, or slide up my body, serpentine. She never repeated herself, and I had to admire her ingenuity, if nothing else.

I'd already confirmed some of what I'd suspected, and learned a great many things besides. However, I was still plenty confused. She confirmed that she was not human, but she'd been rather indignant when I'd called her a vampire. My nipple still throbbed where she'd bit and tugged savagely. She had personally killed those three in the alley that night. She was older than she looked, but refused to specify any more than that. She'd initially stayed with me because I'd seen something I wasn't meant to. Yes, I was in danger.

Her 'yes' responses kept getting more and more aggressive, and it became progressively harder to formulate coherent questions.

"Are you and Lea were the same type of being?" she gave my throat a full-on, flat tongued lick, while at the same time, digging her nails hard into my back. Yes, and no. I scrambled for another question, I knew this was important, and I might not get another chance, but she was goddamned distracting, and it wasn't terribly easy getting what I wanted to know in the form of a yes or no question.

"Those men, in the alley, were they human?" I felt her suckle my earlobe, making a little whimpering sound that drove me absolutely nuts.

"Were they after you, specifically?" A fingernail, hard as a claw, traced hard down my spine with supernatural strength, pressing too hard on the bone ridges and making me arch forward in surprised pain.

"So they were after someone else?" She plucked a stomach hair I hadn't known I had. If I could keep this going long enough, I might well end up smooth as a baby.

"Something else?" I felt the gentlest of caresses, as she traced her fingers down my stomach, and made a circle around the sensitive skin where leg met torso.

"They were going to steal something at Ray's condo?" her tongue explored my navel, twirling in tantalizing circles around the oddly tender flesh. I started to wish I'd paid better attention to all the worthless crap I'd been shown that night. Ray was a magpie, and he collected everything from historical artifacts and fossils to baseball cards and chewing gum.

"Were they working on their own?" She bit my shoulder, teeth pressing hard into the muscle for a moment, but when she let go, it didn't feel as though the skin had broken.

"Were they sent by someone like you" She seemed to consider that for a moment, then she gently nipped the tip of my nose with her teeth, sharp, quick, and hard enough to sting, just a bit. I wondered if this was the start of yet another biting spree. She seemed to be a fan, much to the dismay of my poor little toes'.

"So not like you, but still from the spooky side of the street?" This time, she actually straddled me, slowly grinding her naked pussy against the underside of my shaft. Her heat radiated into me, and I could feel her juices dripping down my groin and legs. I almost lost the ability to speak, but I had to know. I decided I liked this considerably more than getting bit.

"So, whoever it is, won't be happy you interfered?" she actually laughed, and began to rock her hips, up and down, side to side, with agonizing slowness.

"So you're hiding?" She made an affronted sound, and slapped my chest hard enough to sting, but then she traced her hard nipple in slow circles around the place where she'd slapped me, the sensation heightened by the minor injury, so I guess that was another yes-and-no response.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" It was a stupid question, retarded really. I should have asked whether I was in danger for having her here. I didn't know what this creature was, and she certainly wasn't going out of her way to help me find out. I'd seen the results of her savage handiwork, and I knew for a fact that she was a manipulator, a deceiver, and a murderess, not to mention an inhuman monster. Yet, I meant it, and something of that must have come through in my voice.

She suddenly stopped moving. She reached behind my head and untied the blindfold. When I opened my eyes, she was staring at me with an expression I'd never seen on her before. Her trademark smirk was not gone, but it was subdued. It was the most serious expression I'd ever seen on that gorgeous face.

"You wonderful fool. I'm here to protect you, manling." And there was nothing I could say to that, because she kissed me, and anything I had been about to say or ask seemed incredibly unimportant. Her fingers bunched in my hair, and pulled, tilting my head back and away, so she could suckle my jaw, and along my carotid. Faintly, as though from a great distance, I heard a part of my thinking that I really hoped she hadn't been lying about the whole vampire thing, but even that didn't really matter, because she'd been grinding harder and harder this whole time, and suddenly, I felt her slip over, and I was inside. She was a tight, wet furnace against me, and I could feel her alternately clench me, like a fist, and ease, varying the sensation. I strained against my bonds, and the chair slid crazily around on the tiles with the ferocity of our movement. She kissed me again, and the world fell away, there was only her, her, her!

When I came, it was fire and electricity. Every muscle locked in spasm, mindlessly, instinctively trying to drive more of myself inside her, through her. And she rode me through it, her breath panting hot in my ear, her hands turning my head to kiss as she bore me down, and down, and down.

When we'd both calmed down a bit, she untied me, and we went to take a shower. She still hogged the hot water, but insisted we each wash the other. She made me get down on my knees so she could reach my head to shampoo my hair. I retaliated by lifting her off the ground, her legs over my shoulders, her back against the glass, and I ate her out without mercy, despite her punches and kicks of protest. Seeing as she could have wrenched my head off my shoulders as easily as I'd open a jar of pickles, I figured she didn't mind too terribly much. Soon her her hands grabbed my hair and pulled my face harder into her pussy, and her legs were kicking in spasm, not protest.

I was about to set her down, but her legs, locked around my neck, then slid over my shoulders, pinning my arms to my sides momentarily as she slid down my body. She used one hand to steady herself, and the other hand to position me, so she slid straight down and impaled herself on my dick. After that I was a man possessed. I grabbed her by the waist, and began to slam into her, again and again. She locked her arms around my neck, and buried her forehead in the hollow between my collarbone and shoulder. I could feel her breath on my chest as she cried out with each thrust. Her chest was pressed flat to me, but her hips matched my rhythm. Her stomach muscles writhed beneath my hands, and she locked her heels pulled against my thighs to slam us together, again and again. I came as hard the second time as the first, and my legs damn near collapsed beneath me, but I managed to keep us from spilling to the floor. She insisted we wash off a second time, so we did, and played grabass like two teenagers, unable to keep our hands off the other.

By the time we'd toweled off and made our way to the bedroom, I was hard again. I hadn't been this randy since Jr. High, but the month and a half of no-release had left me with a mighty thirst. She was still drying her hair when I pushed her down, bent her over the side of the bed, and stuck my tongue between her freshly cleaned cheeks to lap at that tiny, lucious ass. She again pretended to struggle, but allowed me to grab both of her wrists in one of my hands, and pin them behind her back. With the other hand, I reached inside my bedside table, grabbed the bottle of lube, and poured a two generous portions on my dick and between her cheeks respectively. I spread it evenly across my shaft and head, then used my thumb to do the same between her cheeks. With that much lube, it took barely any pressure at all to press my thumb inside her. I'd expected nothing less.

With no more preamble, I removed my thumb and replaced it with my cock, sliding home with one smooth thrust, then humping her like a wild dog on a bitch in heat. I let go of her arms, and grabbed a fistfull of her hair, yanking her head back till her back bowed, and her flat chest arched up from the bed, nipples pointing proudly at the far wall. I'd expected to last a bit longer this time, but the excitement of taking her rather than being treated like some kind of giant doll, and in her ass, no less, pushed me over the edge faster than ever. I let go of her arms and hair, and grabbed her by the hips, using all my strength to push as deep into her as I could go before I filled her ass with as much cum as my poor body had been able to muster up in the past couple minutes. This time, my legs did collapse, and I fell backwards and pulled her with me, still as deep inside as I could go. We lay there for a while, panting and twitching. Slowly, my cock shriveled, exhausted but content, and gradually slid back out of her, to flop, utterly flacid, against my thigh.

I didn't want to move, ever again, but Andra would have none of it. She very nearly hauled me bodily to my feet, and helped me stagger back to the shower, where she washed us both, thoroughly. My houseguest was apparently a very tidy monster.

*** *** *****

Having finally broken her silence, Andra seemed eager to talk about just about anything. She ignored many of my questions, but didn't at all seem to resent me for the asking. She'd simply smile enigmatically and change the subject in an obvious, but deft manner. It was hard to draw a bead on where the line was between her and her masks. Her moods seemed to change by the minute. One second she'd seem a child, eager and enthusiastic, yet in the next breath she could say something so profound and insightful that she made me feel the child. In the right mood, she could wax poetic, answering me only in verse. I caught familiar lines, but I most of the time couldn't tell what was quoted and what was improvised. She was playful, teasing, taunting, entertaining, dramatic, farcical, and delightful. Sometimes, just sometimes, if I caught her in the right moment, I could sense a deep sorrow within her, but that too was just another part of the whole, like dark pigments in bright paint, adding depth and meaning.

She was utterly without shame, and we made love whenever the mood took either of us. Whatever I could think to do, she matched me without hesitation. I'd never had a lover who could compare with either her skill or her enthusiasm, much less both. She not only didn't mind, but actively encouraged me to unleash every animal instinct I normally had to keep in check. But that was only the least part of it. Most of the time, it felt more like a continuation of whatever we'd been doing, natural and easy and so, so good. When she took the lead she almost always had some new surprise in store.

We spent a whole day shopping for clothes for my 'niece,' and she delighted in her role. She charmed the saleswomen as well as anyone else nearby, modeled everything for me, and when no one was looking, she'd pull me into the changing room and try her damnedest to pull my cock from my body via suction alone. She also insisted that I get an entirely new wardrobe myself. Her own taste in clothes was eclectic to the point of eccentricity, but she had a dead-eye for fashion. Following her advice, I came away with an entirely new wardrobe, all of which looked better on me than anything I'd ever owned, and it hadn't even been all that expensive.

We went to restaurants, movies, plays, concerts, and even the opera. We went to a local amusement park, and while she enjoyed the rides, she truly came alive when we went into the adjoined Cirque knockoff. She adored Museums, and could talk for hours about seemingly any given piece. No matter where we were, she usually found a way to get us somewhere away from prying eyes for a quickie, and she always chose our theatre seats with naughty hijinks firmly in mind.

I have to admit, my natural tendency is to live like a hermit, shut away from the rest of the world, but Andra made me feel so alive that I didn't mind wading through the human sea. In fact, on occasion, the scenery was rather nice. She never failed to noticed when someone else caught my eye, but far from being jealous, it seemed to excite her, and she joined in the hunt. She'd position herself to let me catch a discrete peak, or . Most of these little asides seemed innocent enough, but occasionally, I'd catch the girls sneaking glances at me, some blushing, some with heavy lidded eyes and wicked grins. A few times, she'd convince them to follow along for a bit. I had two hungry mouths nibbling my cock in a fitting room. Andra coached a pretty young teen with more piercings than birthdays, as I took her virginity on a motel bed. She convinced a butch, but gorgeous, lesbian to take us both back to her apartment, and watch as they played together for hours and hours.

And I painted. Somehow, with all of our excursions, with all the work I still had coming in, I still managed to paint more original work in a month than I had in the past three years combined. She would always watch me while I worked. Sometimes we'd talk, but other times I'd be too locked in concentration. It didn't matter. She always had that same satisfied smile on her face. The end results were mixed. Sometimes my skills weren't quite up to the task of putting the image in my mind on the canvas. Sometimes, I'd lose focus, and the mental painting would slip away, like a dream on waking. Still, I kept working, and sometimes, I almost got what I wanted.

I could get Andra to discuss the history of art, culture, video games, movies, comic-books, war, love, pretty much anything, yet whenever I asked about her past, or that of her people, she'd just give me that same smile, a touch sad, a touch pitying, a whole lot amused. It was the same whenever I asked her about her plans for the future. It wasn't taboo, there was no taboo with Andra, it simply was not a topic she would discuss. She never held my attempts against me, returning to whatever topic I chose with enthusiasm and delight, so I did my best to avoid thinking about it, to enjoy the moments we had for all they were worth.

For a time, for a rather long time, in fact, things were pretty goddamned good.

I'll be sitting patiently over here for the next installment of Puppy Mill, of Relatively Powered, and now for the monsterloli houseguest too. You people keep making me come back... :D

Christ, I accidentally whole sentences. I need to stop posting drunk.

This better be continued damnit!

Goddamnit, man.
You seriously write perfectly, you're characters are beautiful and the story is compelling - even thought I have no idea what the story is. Amazing man, and I'd love to read more.

I come back to this?
This?!

This, is amazing. Amazing!

Keep up the great work.

This is fucking brilliant. I eagerly await the next installment.

goddamn it, this is what i TRY to write like. tell me, was this a learned skill, or are you simply a natural elit god?

I care a great deal about stories, to the detriment of my actual life. Some of my earliest memories are of my parents reading me the Chronicles of Narnia. I learned to read by listening to my parents try to teach my sister (she's smarter than I am, but had real problems with dyslexia). Once I could read for myself, I inhaled anything I could. Redwall, Boxcar Children, Huck Finn, Animorphs, Sherlock Holmes, biographies, and pretty much the entire Star Wars extended universe, or as much had been released back then. I was insatiable.

I first read the Lord of the Rings when I was 12, and multiple times since then. I searched a long time for something that recaptured the magic, and fell into the quagmire of mediocre Tolkein impersonators. This was the first time I can actively remember realizing "Holy crap, this book is actually bad!" I'd never thought in those terms before. All books were their own world, and I dove into them as best I knew how. I'd always figured any problems I had with understanding or anything really, were because of my shortcomings as a reader. So many of the books I'd read up til that point were so far over my head, I just accepted that I'd read them again in a few years and discover all the things I'd missed the first time. This was different. These books were poorly written. It wasn't that I didn't understand, I realized that I understood perfectly, and the understanding lead to disappointment.

This was the time where I started thinking "If these guys can write, then I can too!" I started making up my own stories. I always had, little superhero fantasies, picturing myself as a jedi, or daydreams of heroically saving some girl or other, that kind of thing. However, for the first time I started writing them down. It wasn't anything serious, one hobby among many, but I kept reading.

Jr. High brought me Ender's Game (and all the lesser OSC works), Heinlein, Asimov, and I began to learn the difference between Sci-Fi, and Space Fantasy. I liked both. I also enjoyed Harry Potter to the point of obsession, though my enthusiasm fell off after book five failed to live up to my own personal vision. That was the start of the fanfiction. I was convinced that Harry belonged with Cho, and I was gonna make it happen damnit! Oh yeah, and Voldemort is bad and stuff. I wrote an unhealthy amount of fanfic, but while it was truly godawful, it did teach me a lot about what works and what doesn't. Later, I would start to puzzle out the 'why.'

When I started college, I rediscovered adult fantasy. Lots of kids, like me, had grown up disappointed with what fantasy had become, and some of them were doing something about it. Jim Butcher's Harry Dresden is far from a perfect series, but it was something I hadn't realized could exist. Smart popcorn fiction. He fooled me into thinking I was reading just another episodic series of novels, when really I was reading one pre-planned saga, that took everything good about the Buffy series, and added structure, purpose, and meaning. Patrick Rothfuss blew me away with his Kingkiller Chronicle. But nothing, nothing could prepare me for when I discovered the Mountain that Writes. George R. R. Martin is my idol, my dealer, my king. He is everything I aspire to be. I waited a year for Feast (I discovered them late), 5 more for Dance, and I will gladly wait as long as it takes for my next fix.

There are two reasons to become an author. The first is you look at the books you're reading and think "Hell, I could write better than this right now!" The second is you read a book and think "I'll never be able to write like this in a million years, but goddamnit, I want to try!" I now had both motivations.

I write a good bit now. I try to find a way to write at least a thousand words of prose a day. That's my deal with myself. I have written more crap than you can imagine. I've written things, and thought I'd done something amazing, only to read it again a day later, delete it all, remove the hard-disk, and set it on fire.

Elit is what I write when I've got writer's block. No matter how tired or frustrated I am, I can usually work up the motivation to type up some smut. It's also just about the only outlet I have for my pedophilia (coming from a conservative Christian upbringing, that realization was a fucking doozy, let me tell you). If I can't write anything good, I let myself write up a self-indulgent fantasy, then let it fly. I don't check spelling, I don't revise, I don't even really think about it all that much. I root around in my brain for a scenario that intrigues me, then follow it as far as it will go, often as not I'm hovering somewhere between buzzed and flat-out drunk. If, despite all that, I somehow end up with something that people like, that's pretty fucking awesome, and I enjoy the hell out of the responses. However, it's not something that came easy to me. I've written a lot of absolute crap, but that was all a part of the process of getting here.

The writers whose work I most enjoy always say the same thing. First, you have to read a lot, then you have to write a lot. That's not to say that's all there is, but it will give you the foundation you need to understand why structure matters, what purpose the 'rules' of writing serve, and when you can afford to bend, or even break them.

Tl:dr - I read and write a lot. When I'm blocked, I write elit to clear the pipes.

well, in that case, please keep clearing the pipes. because i, for one, have fallen in love with this twisted little tale already. i'm intrigued, aroused, and interested. please continue.

Jesus man, this shit is amazing.

I've been working on this pretty steadily in my free time, and I'm really enjoying this update quite a bit. I'm more than 2000 words in, as I write this, but I'm still some ways off from a satisfactory stopping point. It should be ready in a few days.

Right now its looking like I'll have this update, then two to three more after that, but this story's surprised me several times already, so who can really say for sure?

Thanks for all the great feedback, and I'm glad you guys seem to be enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

The sharp knock at my door surprised me so much I fumbled my brush, and muffed the stroke. An hour and a half of work, completely fucked in a tenth of a second. Quickly, I scraped away as much the wet paint from the area as I could, then got up and put on a shirt. Later, when it dried, I'd have to cover the mistake with a few coats of titanium white, and then it would be a nightmare to blend it back in with the rest. Might have to repaint almost a quarter of the piece to match the colors again, but there was nothing to be done for that now.

The knock came again, loud, insistent, and irritating. I couldn't help but wonder who the hell had the gall to go knocking on doors at this hour. Granted, I hadn't exactly been sleeping, but they didn't know that. The more I thought about it, the more it pissed me off, and I began to mutter dire imprecations under my breath as I stomped from my studio and into the hall.

Andra met me when I reached the living room, the book she'd been reading in one hand, with her index finger between the folded pages, keeping her place. She never went to bed unless I did, and I still don't think she actually slept there. She raised an eyebrow at me as I passed. "What time is it?" She asked, that little grin of hers both on her face and in her voice. I tend to be pretty relaxed, on the whole, so she loved to see me out of sorts.

"Three in the fucking morning." I growled, stomping past, to the door, trying to keep a nice head of steam on my anger.

She paused a moment, then added, "What day?"

"What?" I asked, looking back.

"Today's date, what is it?"

I thought for a second, then told her and reached for the door.

"Wait..." she said, thoughtful, considering, then suddenly she shouted, "No! Don't!" It was too late. I'd already turned the handle, and that was enough.

The door flew open, missing my nose by half an inch, and swung around hard enough for the handle to dent my drywall. Quicker than thought, and before I could even react, something slammed into my stomach, driving the breath from me, and knocking me on my back. My head slammed against hardwood flooring, and my vision filled with dancing stars. Dazed, I realized I hadn't just been hit, I'd been tackled, and something was on top of me, pinning me down. I kicked wildly, and tried to suck in the breath to fight, but whatever it was had had latched onto my waist, and was squeezing so hard that my intestines were trying to exit my body by way of my nose.

"Stream and stone!" Andra sighed. The words had the ring of invective, but her tone bespoke weary amusement. "Lea, if you kill my human, I'm going to be cross."

"I've missed you!" Said a voice from my sternum. She squeezed even harder for half a second, then, thankfully, released her death-grip to crawl up and attempt to remove my tonsils using nothing but her tongue. Unfortunately, she was still sitting on my chest. Tiny, though she was, she didn't make things any easier on my poor, shocked diaphragm.. My my own tongue slipped past hers, and into her mouth, not in an attempt to return the kiss, but merely in a desperate quest for any spare oxygen that might be lurking there.

Then, suddenly, tongue, and weight were both gone, and I was left to cough and gag in relative peace. When I'd sucked in enough oxygen to recede the borders of my tunneling vision a tad, I looked up to see her standing astride me like a hunter over a kill. I could also see that beneath her microskirt she was wearing pink, lacy panties.

When I figured I could speak without coughing I said, "Nice to see you again. Mind if I stand?"

"I dunno." She said, eyes glittering. "I kinda like you down there. How's the view?"

"Lovely. How've you been?"

"Keeping busy. No rest for the cliche, and all that. Andra's such a bully. She's kept you all to yourself while I've been slaving away..."

Andra interrupted, abruptly, saying "Repaying favors owed." And gave her a significant look.

Lea looked exasperated. "Some owed, aye, and some bargained but not yet paid. And what's the harm, Andra?" They've left already. The moon has waxed and waned and waxed again, and not one attemp, by night or day. I've been bored to tears. But the window has passed. He's given u..."

"Lea." Andra's voice was amused still, but there was bedrock beneath.

Lea raised her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine." Then added in a mock whisper directed to me, "Apparently, you're a mushroom."

"Kept in the dark and fed on bullshit?" I said, idly wondering what the recovery time was for cracked ribs.

Lea laughed, and clapped. "Oh, we are going to have so much fun, duckling." Lea said, and helped me to my feet with casual, frightening strength. "Aren't we, Andra?"

Confused, I looked over at Andra who shrugged. "I'm in the red, at the moment. If that's the favor you want, I have no objection." Then, to me, she said, "She's mostly harmless these days..."

"Hey!" Lea began to interject, but Andra spoke right over her.

"And if you paid my debt to her, then I must needs compensate you appropriately upon your return..." She left the implications hanging, but her eyes made promises.

I intended to think it over, I really did, but I made the mistake of looking into two pairs of eyes. One pair was deep, and dark, the other pair were jade and emerald, and both pairs were making promises that bypassed any sort of common sense.

"So, Lea, what did you have in mind?"

She laughed, delighted and wicked, and pulled me toward the door. "Step into my limo," said the spider to the fly, "and we can talk about it."

Andra just smiled and waved me on, then spoke past me to Lea. "Don't have too much fun now. I need him back more or less in one piece."

*** *** *****

Someday, I promised myself, I would learn to never make any important decision while sporting a hard-on.

"Mostly harmless." I muttered under my breath. The words steamed into fog and floated away on the freezing wind. "My ass."

At the moment, my ass was bare, as was the rest of me. Leather thongs lashed me at neck, shoulders, wrists, waist, thighs, and ankles, binding me to a massive old oak. They were broad, well crafted, and padded enough that even after a week, they hadn't caused much more harm than mild chafing. At least, I thought it had been a week. The days were all starting to blur together, along with the various torments.. The whip had sliced my skin in nice straight cuts that had already healed nicely. I could still remember the sensation of Lea's tongue probing each wound in turn, lapping the blood, and soothing the sting. The servants, stunted, hooded things that moved oddly and never showed their faces, had kept me alive through the experience. They'd fed me stale bread, and water, though never enough. They'd kept the bonfire roaring during my tenure, so much so that I would probably have a bit of a sunburn on my face, so I hadn't frozen. Instead, I'd had an object lesson on just how wild of extremes the human body could endure, and still maintain, on average, a moderate temperature. Also, to add insult to injury, the squirrels had apparently taken great delight in pelting me with acorns whenever they thought no one was looking. Somehow, they always managed to nail me tip-first, impressive marksmanship for thumbless rodents. The sporadic impacts, coupled with all the other factors, had made it all but impossible to sleep. I caught occasional catnaps, but true rest had eluded me, and I had gone more than a little loopy. I remember one period where I'd sung Gilbert and Sullivan patter songs at the top of my lungs for hours at a time. I think I'd figured I shouldn't be the only one suffering.

At the sound of slow, methodical footsteps behind me, I knew my tormenter had come once more. "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when you mentioned foreplay." Or at least that's what I tried to say. Between the hypothermia and the dementia, I don't think I got out more than a garbled phrase or two, with crazed giggling interspersed.

"My poor knight. You have been sweet to indulge me so. But this brief torment is at its end" She drew a silver knife along my skin, just under my collarbone. I could feel the warmth trickle down my chest, down my stomach and legs, some dripping from my nipples, some from my toes, but the blade was too sharp for pain. She lapped greedily at the flow and sighed with satisfaction. "Lovely, you are. And all the sweeter for your suffering. But I have indulged enough, and you have more than served my purpose." Her lips found mine, and I tasted the metallic tang of my own blood on her tongue. Suddenly she backed away, and looked up into the branches, her eyes wistful. "This is a wicked old man. Yours is not the first man's blood he's drunk, nor the first who's hung from his boughs. He remembers the taste of it. He was growing tired, fading, withering but having you here has reminded him of his youth. He's stood her two hundred years already, and he could see two hundred more. You are a small part of the why of it, and for that I do thank you."

She kissed me again, but not the sensuous kiss of the temptress. This was a formal thing, a ritual, a kiss on each cheek, and another upon the forehead, and when her lips left, I could see it. I saw a man, naked, but for his red hair.. His belly was sliced open, and blood ran down his pale,freckled skin from the cut. A bloody rope ran from the slice to the trunk where it was affixed with a spike. He was obviously in great pain, but he continued to walk, counterclockwise *widdershins* around the tree. Dozens, no, scores of men, women, and even children, watched as he made his way once, twice, then thrice and done. An old crone walked forward from the group, cradled the man's head on her frilly-aproned lap, and muttered soothing words, almost a lullaby, in a lilting language I didn't recognize. The man smiled, and his teeth were stained red. The woman's hand moved, swift and sure, and drew a bronze knife across his throat. The man jerked once, but settled immediately as the woman continued rocking and soothing.

I looked at where Lea should have been standing, and was surprised to find her, standing among the people of my vision, except, the shape of the girl before me seemed... wrong somehow. When I looked harder, I could see a woman standing in the girl's place, and at the same time standing behind the ghostly crowd from my fevre dream. Pale, and lovely she was, with full breasts and hips. Her proportions were all off, as though stretched. Her arms, her legs, her waist, her fingers, her face. Everything was lovely, delicate, and long. Her hair was the color of freshly spilled blood, or molten steel, and tumbled in soft curls over her shoulder and hiding one perfect breast. Her eyes were green in green, sparkling like emeralds in the firelight, with no whites at all. She was beautiful, the way a praying mantis is beautiful, and she watched the scene with the cold fascination of the hunter. In that moment, I knew her. With all the certainty of madness, I knew who stood before me.

"Leanansidhe!" I named her, not knowing what it meant, but knowing it for truth, all the same.

Suddenly, the woman was gone, and only the girl Lea remained. She was smiling still, but then I looked into her eyes. There, she looked shaken, uncertain, for the first time in my memory. "Definitely time to get you down from there."

My mouth was on autopilot. "Already? I was just starting to get used to the place. The squirrels are such lovely hosts."

Her smile grew a bit more genuine. "They've had you long enough. If I leave you any longer, certain small extremities are likely to freeze off."

"It's only little because it's cold, and of course the whole blood-loss thing."

"You needn't be so sensitive about it, duckling. I'm fond of small, cute things."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because men get so embarrassed about th..."

"No, I meant, why this whole thing? Why keep me here for a week? Why is this tree so important?"

"Oh, the tree was just a happy accident darling, a place to string you up for a time. I just wanted to remind your body what it was to want. The want of food, the want of warmth, the want of rest, the want of flesh. It is when we remember what it is to be deprived that we most appreciate restoration..." As if to punctuate her sentence, she lashed out with her knife, the lazy grace of the motion belying its terrifying speed and power. She sliced cleanly through the leather strap wrapped around my left wrist, yet left my skin unharmed. For the first time in a week, my arm was free from the weight of my body. Its share of the burden was, of course, instantly taken up by the rest of the bonds, but that simple freedom, that simple release, was an overwhelming pleasure. She leaned in, and took my earlobe between her teeth, biting and suckling, very gently, then whispered in my ear "... and indulgence.

*** *** *****

Had to split this update up into 2. I won't leave you hanging long.

>>17603
Have you read Gaiman's American Gods and/or Sandman? I'd hope so. They're magnificent.

I have, and i love them both. Sandman has the better stories and writing, but american gods is more accessible and cohesive. They've been a huge influence on my own personal mythologies, though my novels, so far, have all taken place in a shared future history more akin to Zelazny than Gaiman.

As a reader and female lurker of this site i want to ask that you continue i love the sex and humor and mystery of this story. my favorites "Pot, meet kettle." and "Kept in the dark, and fed on bs" I nearly pissed myself I laughed so hard. For the sake of my sanity keep going.

I won't lie, I live for comments like that. It's pretty fucking pathetic when you think about it, but there it is. I thrive on attention, primarily affirmation, but it's also fun when people get pissed off and butthurt by something I've written.

Haven't been writing much on this story, but I've got a couple pretty fun scenes coming up, so I'm excited to get back to it. Check back in a day or two, and I'll have something for you.

I'm kinda new to this board. I've been lurking for a couple weeks and have read back to about page 4. This is one of my favorites thus far. Keep up the good work OP, and I'm looking forward to the promised update.

I finally got around to this last night, banged out 800 words and I like where it's going. Sorry for the delay, but for now I just wanted to let you know I'm still here, still working. If I have a good work day, I should have time to finish this update tonight, if not it'll have to be tomorrow.

Bump of anticipation.

I remembered very little of the next few days. A fragment of small hands undoing my bonds. Lea washing the filth from my body, laying me down in softness and warmth, fingers running through my hair. The rest is glorious surcease.

I woke in softness.I was naked, I was warm, I was clean, and I was loosely swaddled in the softest, most luxurious bed I'd ever experienced. There is an almost sexual enjoyment to be had in the sensation of warm, clean sheets on warm, clean skin, and for a moment, I simply writhed, letting the smooth silk flow across my skin. As I took my first deep breath, the scents of coffee and bacon filled my nostrils, and I very nearly started to drool.

I looked, and there was a covered tray next to the bed. When I removed the lid, steam wafted from the dishes and mug, but there was no heating element. Everything was fresh, as though someone had placed it there only a moment before, and the feast before me could have fed three of me, with leftovers. Thick cut bacon, eggs benedict, sausages of all shapes and textures, fragrant sourdough french toast, roast tomatoes and peppers, pancakes, rich butter, real maple syrup, fresh-squeezed orange juice, milk, biscuits, honey, whole-fruit jams in a variety of flavors, and more, and more, and more. I was famished, and tempted to dive literally face-first into everything on the plate, but some portion of my mind made me hold back. I could still remember my time on the tree, and the things I thought I'd seen. I'd been pretty fucking cavalier about things up to this point, but my Nana had read me stories when I was a kid, and I'd learned a good bit about mythology in my art courses. If Lea was who I thought she might be, then eating anything offered in this place might be a very bad idea indeed. Of course, it was a bit late to be thinking all this. I'd accepted both food and drink on the tree. Still, I hesitated.

My conflict must have shown on my face, because I heard a peal of laughter from right beside me. I jumped like a nervous cat before, then made an effort to calm myself and turn to look at my host/captor. She was tangled in the sheets beside me wearing some kind of naval captain's hat, several sizes too large for her, and she had it tilted at a rakish angle. She wasn't wearing anything else..

She smiled and plucked a piece of bacon between two delicate fingers, and held it a few inches in front of my lips. "It's natural, you have my word. No glamour or gramarye, and free of let, loan, or lien. I have no need of such tricks. I prefer my victims willing. Besides, Andra would be just impossible if I did anything to you. Trust me, that girl can hold a grudge."

I shrugged and took the offered bite. It was was a salty, savory strip of heaven made flesh, and I groaned in pleasure as the favor exploded, filling my mouth with meaty goodness. Lea laughed, delighted, and continued feeding me by hand, letting me suckle the juices from her finger like mother's milk. She tore a strip off a crepe, and laid it on her forearm with powdered sugar and raspberry jam, then giggled as I ate it off and licked up the remnants. The taste of the food and the sensation of her skin combined my various appetites into a confused jumble of ravenous hunger. I tongued her nipples as I ate the slices of sausage she'd laid there. She filled her tiny, taut navel with maple syrup, and I licked it clean. When I sucked a small strawberry from between her lips, her tongue followed, and she burst the fruit against the roof of my mouth, releasing the sweet juice. Her breath panted hot in my ear as I licked whipped cream from her shoulder, and her nails dug into my back as we writhed, as though desperate to touch as much of our skin to the other as physically possible.

Taste, touch, sight, sound, scent, the more I indulged, the hungrier I became, for food, for her, for release. When I entered her, she bit the meat of my shoulder hard enough to draw blood, and the pain was sweet as the honey I'd nuzzled from her throat only a few seconds before. The rest was a blur of sweet and savory taste and sensation. We made one hell of a mess, but by the end we were both panting, spent, and sated.

It was only after that I actually looked out the window, or rather I should say I looked out the port. There was water as far as the eye could see, and the view was tilting slightly, with an easy rocking motion. "Ahh, that explains this." I said, grabbing the captain's hat, which had fallen, forgotten, early in the proceedings. I plopped it back on her head as she leaned over me to grab a muffin.

That won me a laugh, and she said, "The proprieties must be observed, after all."

"Indeed. So you're the captain?"

She nodded, amused. "I tend to get my way."

"So this is your boat?"

"I don't really do ownership if I can help it." She said, favoring me with a wry smile. "Upkeep, storage, taxes, it's all so boring. I prefer obligation."

"Ah, another favor?"

"Honestly, he's getting a bargain. He barely ever uses it anymore." She said, glancing lazily around the cabin. "I really should require something of him that he uses more than twice a decade, but it's such a lovely yacht."

That was putting it mildly. The room was gorgeous, the furniture and decor in this room alone probably cost more than my entire house, but that was the least of it. The waves outside were not inconsiderable, yet I had to really pay attention to notice any rocking whatsoever. The boat, ship, yacht, whatever the fuck it was, had to be huge.

"So what's the plan?"

"I have you for a little more than a month yet. Let's go on an adventure!"

"Sound good to me." I hadn't taken an actual vacation in years. I supposed it was about time.

I got up, planning to take a shower, but Lea had other plans. She grabbed my dick and used it as a leash, leading me up to the deck. On the way, we passed the galley and Lea stopped in to compliment the chef. I was shocked to realize I recognized him. I couldn't remember his name, but he had one of those cooking shows on the food network. He just nodded at us, completely unfazed, and continued scaling a large, spotted fish.

When we got outside, the fresh air and sunlight felt absolutely amazing. I stood for a moment, taking in the view of sparkling waves as far as the eye could see, and listening to the breeze rustle the furled sails overhead. I was surprised to see Lea put on a black bikini, and then hand me a pair of boardshorts in my exact size. I hadn't thought her the modest type, but I didn't have time to wonder long, since she led me, again by the dick, over to the edge, then pushed me in.

The temperature shock was horrifying, and my balls immediately made an bid to become ovaries by tunneling up into my body. It wasn't truly frigid, but I've always been a thermophile, and was having difficulty adjusting. Lea laughed at me from the deck, but soon dove in to join me. "Antarctic?" I guessed through chattering teeth after she'd returned to the surface.

"Atlantic, you baby!." She corrected, apparently unaffected by the cold. "We're heading to the Caribbean." She swam swift circles around me, effortless and graceful as a dolphin... or a shark. "We're actually off the coast of Florida at the moment. You can't see it over the horizon, but it's that way." She said, pointing away from the boat, then she dunked me, and swam away laughing. I gave chase, and she let me catch her after taking token flight. She was fast, and frightfully strong, but for all that, she was still a very little girl, and I held my own. As we wrestled, her bikini kept slipping, flashing me a nipple here, a partially exposed labia there, and despite the cold, it wasn't long before I felt myself pressing against the front of my shorts.

She felt it too, and slowly wrestling became grinding and the laughter was interspersed with kisses and moans. She stripped me out of my shorts with her feet, and we ground with only the thin material of her bikini bottoms between us. I've had sex in the water before, and while interesting, it was usually more of a novelty than anything. The water dilutes everything and reduces sensation. This was different. Having that thin layer of separation added just enough friction to really keep things interesting, and I remembered when I'd been twelve, making out and dry humping my friend's younger sister on the couch in their basement after he'd fallen asleep during the movie, none the wiser. I hadn't thought of that in years, but the memory made me even hotter. I began to move with purpose and Lea responded in kind.

She clung to me, and did most of the actual work, alternating between torturously slow and desperately fast. It was all I could do to simply ride out the sensation and at the same time keep our heads above the waves. When she felt me hit the point of no return, she quickly dove under, and took me in her mouth to the root, and at the same time she slipped two thin fingers up my ass, curving and pressing down with expert precision, setting every nerve I had aflame. I came like a tidal wave, and she sucked me so hard I thought she might be trying to tear it off. I spurted shot after shot, and she swallowed every bit of it, greedily milking me with her tongue and throat.

I would have been content to drown, both literally and figuratively, in the afterglow but my body acted on autopilot and kept me afloat, at least enough to breathe. Afterwards, I was more that a little confused. As obsessed as I generally am with my partners' assholes, I was a bit of a hypocrite in that I hadn't ever enjoyed anyone playing with mine. The thought only troubled me for a moment, then I had to laugh at myself. Preternatural nymphomaniac bondage-obsessed superlolitas I accepted unquestioningly, but the moment one of them stuck her finger up my ass, I was suddenly faced with a mental crisis. Besides, that had been one of the most mind blowing orgasms I'd ever experienced. Just remembering was enough to send chills up my spine, except no, wait, that was the water, which was still freakin freezing Mr. Bigglesworth!

We swam to the back of the Yacht and climbed up a small stairwell and Lea led me to a pair of lounge chairs on the foredeck. She had me lay down, and she sat beside me to slather me with sunscreen. She was... extremely thorough, and I marveled at what a bit of abstinence could do for my refractory period. When she was finished, I insisted she let me do the same to her. Despite everything we'd done, it was somehow extremely exciting just to have my hands on her, rubbing the lotion into her smooth, pale skin, feeling the play of those powerful muscles just beneath the surface. I massaged her foot, paying attention to each toe, the arches, the heel. I moved up to the calf, and really went to work, digging my thumbs into the muscle with long, firm strokes, then working back in slow circles, breaking up any spots of tension I found. I did the same to her thigh, but stopped just short of where her bikini covered and started on the other foot and repeating the whole process over again, and again with each arm. I spent a long time on her neck and shoulders, really kneading the muscle and skin, patiently working around each knot until I felt it give way and relax.

When my fingers reached the straps of her top, she reached back and untied them, leaving her back naked beneath me. Again, for no logical reason, I found that incredibly erotic. I worked my way down her back until I reached the edge of her bottoms, then went back up along the long muscles of the spine. I repeated that several times, alternating techniques and pressures, but always stopping when my fingers touched cloth. The third time this happened, Lea reached down and untied the sides, but remove the cloth. I made a few more passes, up and down and back again, this time working the exposed skin along her hip, and the sides of her ass, but I still stopped when my fingers met cloth. On the fourth pass, I slipped my fingers just under the edge, again having flashbacks to nervous explorations in my early teen years, always wondering just how far I'd be allowed to go, always trying to push thing just a bit further. I concentrated on the area, going from her thighs to her waist and back. After a few passes, I'd begun kneading her cheeks in earnest, and soon I'd pulled the bottoms aside completely.

I did away with all pretense and pulled her hips up to bury my face between her cheeks, circling my tongue in figure eights around her pussy and asshole and back. She began to writhe beneath my fingers, and I nibbled at the flesh of her buttocks. I squeezed a dollop of lotion on my fingers and rubbed it between her cheeks, first over, and then inside her ass, getting revenge for earlier. I diddled her clit as my fingers dug like pirates looking for treasure. I spent a good five minutes like that, working her to the edge, then backing her off, and again, and again. When I finally drove her over into orgasm, her spasms and moans awoke my inner neanderthal. I positioned myself, then speared her ass in a single thrust, as though I were trying crawl inside her, cock first. Mindless, I pistoned, back and slammed back in, over and over, so hard and fast that each slap of her skin on mine stung and tingled. When she felt me cum, she reached back and drew my face to hers, so we were joined at both ends as I spurted shot after shot into her ass. It wasn't the easiest position to maintain, her being so much shorter and all, but it was well worth it.

We spent the rest of the day lounging, playing, eating, talking, swimming and, of course, fucking. The chef was the only other soul aboard. He gave us our privacy most of the time, content to read in his cabin most of the time, but when he did join us, we almost always ended up listening to stories about his fascinating life. He'd had a fascinating life, served in three militaries, lived in seven countries, traveled to many more. I loved the story about how he'd met Lea in portugal, "You looked very different back then" he said with a wink and a smile. Lea just laughed, and he went on. Soon after he'd moved to New York, and opened a diner, which was so successful that he bought out his neighbors on each side to make room. That diner eventually became one of the most successful restaurants in New York, and got him his own show. I glanced over at Lea during all this, and she was just staring at the man with the most serene, satisfied look I'd ever seen on her.

I was surprised that we didn't have more of a crew. I mean, I understood that the yacht's sails were largely automated, and that even if something did go wrong, we had a powerful backup moter and enough fuel to get to Brazil and back, but still it seemed a bit reckless. When I asked Lea what we would do if there was a storm, she laughed even harder than usual. "Dear child." She said, still giggling. "You know Columbus wasn't the first to sail from Europe to the Americas, do you not?"

"Of course. The vikings got here way before him, and they did it in those tiny longboats of theirs."

She clapped, delighted and said "Oh you are the clever one, aren't you?" I had the distinct impression I was being mocked, but she did it in such good humor it was impossible to be upset. She motioned me down to her, looking for all the world like a child about to tell me a secret. I bent obligingly, and she whispered, "I showed them how."

And suddenly, the lack of a crew didn't seem like such a problem.

We arrived at an island in just a couple of days, and Lea took us to a sensational resort. I actually saw Kevin Spacey walking through the lobby as we checked in. I looked at Lea as he passed and she giggled saying, "Not one of mine, but I love his work."

We went to several resorts like that, sailed to a new island, then checked in under false names using false ID that gave us a false relationship as father and daughter. She had entirely too much fun playing her part, calling me 'Daddy' at every opportunity. The beaches were gorgeous, the food was delicious, and the entertainment was top notch. I'd have been more than content to have a simple holiday, but Lea had more on her agenda. When we were on the beach, she'd run off, in character, to play with the other kids. I was doubly glad for the phony identity when she starting bringing 'friends' over to spend the night. Sometimes nothing would come of it, and Lea would just have a playmate for the evening, then she'd return to her parents in the morning, none the worse for wear. At other times...

I woke up one night to the sound of giggles and desperate shushing. I pretended to still be sleeping, and enjoyed the sensations as Lea taught a twelve year old heiress how to give a blowjob, using me as a living example. The next night, she came back and learned how to properly ride a cock, again thinking me none the wiser. Another time Lea befriended the nine year old daughter of an internationally famous porn star. She actually came with us on the boat for a few days while her mother partied, and was eager to re-enact all her mother's most famous movies. She wasn't even in her double digits yet, but she was already a pro. She readily admitted that I wasn't her first, but adamantly refused to give names, even to Lea. She was also one of the smartest young girls I'd ever met. Lea took a real shine to her, and watched her with a thoughtful look in her eye as she left drove off in the car with her mother.I had the feeling that her name would be famous someday, and for a lot more than just sex.

My favorite times, though, were the nights alone on the yacht. It was kinda fun, playing the part of an obscure billionaire, but I've always been most comfortable in my own skin, and it was relaxing to drop the act. I'd picked up art supplies at our first stop, and I'd been painting ever since. I didn't have a particular subject in mind, I just painted an imaginary scene which seemed to be set somewhere in Victorian England, centered on a house with a green door. I wasn't even sure what it was supposed to be, it just felt right. I figured I'd discover later that I'd seen a picture of it somewhere. I tended to do that, paint things that I later I'd see a photo and realize I must have seen it somewhere else.

Unlike Andra, Lea rarely watched me work. She was a video game junkie, and when we weren't making up our own games, she was usually lost in Azeroth or Skyrim. I was close to done, and just fixing some minor niggles, when I heard a sudden gasp beside me. I hadn't even noticed Lea come in, but she was beside me, staring at painting, her lovely face even more pale than usual beneath the freckles, her expression locked somewhere between shock and grief. It was more than just that. Her eyes, wide with surprise, had changed. Her Irises had grown so large that no white could be seen, shining opalescent green like an emerald, and slitted vertically like a cat's. There were tears running down her cheeks, and her hand, which seemed even longer and slimmer than usual, reached out, almost as though against her will. Her fingers reached for the painting, then drew back as she remembered herself.

I had been struck speechless this whole time, unsure how to react, but I heard myself say "Don't worry, it's dry." I'd been working on a flower in the corner, and her hand was nowhere near that.

She didn't give any indication that she'd heard, except her hand moved back to the painting. she brushed her finger along the outline of one face in the crowd, then up to the house, tracing the door, the windows, the chimney. She stayed like that for long moments, inhumanly still. Finally, she seemed to snap out of her reverie. She wiped away the tears and blinked her eyes furiously. When she looked at me, her eyes were back to normal, but her smile was shaky, as though she'd forgotten how.

"I know this place. I knew him." She paused for a long moment, seemed uncertain how to proceed. Finally she spoke quietly, almost a whisper. "He was very kind, very good... I'd almost forgotten."

Again the words burst from me, almost without consideration. "It's yours." Then I added, almost as an afterthought, "if you want it, that is."

This smile was warmer, more genuine. "I would like that very much."

*** *** *****

We spent a lazy week returning to port. Lea had returned to her normal giggly self almost at once, but sometimes, when she thought I was asleep, I'd see her stare longingly at my painting. She also began to ask questions about my past, about my paintings, and about my dreams. She had me keep a dream journal, and read through it with me each day. She loved to psychoanalize the symbolism and make fun of me for my embarrassing phobias and desires, but occasionally I'd read something and she'd simply look thoughtful.

She gave me assignments, and sometimes they were utterly ridiculous. She had me stand on my head and stare at an apple for more than an hour. I'd had so much blood in my head by the end that it felt ready to burst at the slightest touch. I wasn't sure exactly what she was going for, but she always made sure the rewards were worthwhile. We fucked like rabbits, in every corner of the ship, and when we were exhausted, the Chef would bring us a feast and regale us with stories.

The ending was bittersweet. This had been, bar none, the best vacation of my life, even including the weeklong stint I'd spent tied to a tree, but I'd had my fill. I was ready to get back to work, and more importantly, back to Andra. I'd missed her terribly, but Lea had been adamant that for the time we had together, I was hers, and hers alone. You'd think I'd be all sexed out after the marathon I'd had with Lea, but I honestly was absolutely my cock was honestly quasi stiff just from the thought of getting home to my dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty. It was like the difference between savory and sweet. Both are good, but stuffing yourself with flan or ice-cream or cake doesn't satisfy the same desires as a thick, juicy steak.

I was almost too lost in my own head to notice the police tape around my lawn. When I did, my first thought was that I'd been found out, that someone had realized I was a pedophile, and that they'd come to lock me away forever. That fear was short lived though, and replaced by a much worse dread when I saw the shattered windows, the door ripped off its hinges, the deep furrows torn out of my lawn.

Something terrible had happened while I'd been gone, and Andra was nowhere to be found.

HOLY SHIT MOAR

She sent him away to protect him, I'm guessing.

>>17756

Clever girl!

Oh my god, I fucking love this! Always, with the best stories, I start looking for a quick fap and then forget all about it as I read the whole fucking thing.

People like you are an inspiration to us all, it's only a pity that the pedophobes wouldn't be able to see past that for an instant if they knew. Words cannot express what I am feeling right now.

Not even kidding you should be charging for this shit.

>>17829

But it's so awesome that people would steal it and post it here, and then there'd be DCMA bullshit that would cause us to grow to hate what we used to love, and then OP would become disillusioned with this wonderful story and just give up on it, and what I'm saying is that's really a tragic road to start to go down for something this fantastic.

once again. you've done it again. i want more, i need more, you've left me wanting and hungering and all i want to do is write my own world of Elit into being to try to compete, even as i know that i can't even compare. if you drop this now, i will find you, and i will do unspeakable things to you. probably involving ferrets.

You are invited to continue this GLORIOUS story.

This story is great. I think it might have finally gotten me back into reading fan fiction again.

Hey, sorry for the delay. Christmas with the family doesn't afford many opportunities to write at all, much less stuff like this. I'm still around, but I'll finish this up once I get home.

Finish this or else... jk.

Two weeks since christmas! you're excuse has run it's course! WHERE IS THE UPDATE HUH!!!!

>>18080
>you're
your

I'm here I've just been ̶v̶i̶s̶i̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶y̶ super fat and lazy.

Ok, I've officially started the process. I know where I want to end up, but some of the details still need to be sorted out, and I've been procrastinating. Hammered out two of the main obstacles, still have a few more to go, but I like the direction things are taking. I'll keep you updated

This, more, now.

with your permission, Uninvited, i would like to grace this thread with one bit of input. long story short, this tale of yours now has a themesong, in my mind at least. those of you that care, it's I Love the Night, by the ever amazing Blue Oyster Cult.

youtube link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0x4GQDoN0Lk

Nope *grabs hat with head*

Bump! This story is great, Uninvited.

Oh, my. This was so fucking amazing. I even forgot to fap.

In love.
Greedily waiting another installment.

>>18096
Desperately awaiting the next installment, I cannot wait for the story to continue to unfold. Without a doubt my favorite Elit ever.

keep going pretty please...

Feel really bad about this. Just completely let it go, and there was no reason for it. I had plenty of time, I just never sat myself down and started writing. Anyway, I've got it open now, and I'm 4 paragraphs into the update. We'll have to wait and see whether I welch again or not.

I deny the thy welching.

My hope is restored! I have almost given up on elit cause all the good stories keep dying, but now one of the possible greats is coming back, color me excited.

haven't given up on the story, but it's hit a point where I can go one of multiple different directions and I'm trying to choose which one fits best. Update coming in 2 weeks or not at all.

>>18770
Why don't you post a rough outline of your ideas and see what we think of them (aside from the POST MORE PLEASE SO HOT spam that seems to be 90% of this board's content, anyway)

i wont say rush this story to compromise quality, because so far this story is impeccable in its story telling, i absolutely love it. Take your time with the next update to make sure its on par with what we've got so far, or close to it, just so long as it actually gets done.

Far from impeccable, it could really benefit from some revision/rewriting, but I likes it.

NO I WILL NOT LET IT DIE

>>18770
So close now... I just started reading this today, and goddamn, I want more so badly.

>>18770
The Timer of Truth counts down. I await the fate of my favourite Elit with just wonderful writing and compelling story with a heavy heart filled with dread

I am just trying to save these good stories and you just give me nothing.

b-b-b-b-bump!

Powerbump to where this deserves to be.

Page 3 is 3 too far.

Oh god, you guys still remember this? I'm so ashamed.

Ok, here's the deal. I tried several different approaches, and got bogged down in each. I can't do anything today, but I'll do another read-through tonight and see if I can work out the kinks. No promises.

awesome story i hope you continue

moat!

OP, if you aren't going to continue this, can we at least get an outline of what you had planned?

>>19511
Please continue. I have to know more, I need to.

>>19511
yes...please continue

Please post whatever you have! No editing needed!

>>19511
Indeed, please update!

>>19511
please post whatever you had written

OP, pls.

This is one of the best fucking threads on the board, abs I've always had a soft spot for Irish stories. The Leanansidhe in this one is fucking incredible; literally mai waifu.

Even if it's just the outline, please come back, OP.

Agree would be happy with outline

What happens next?!

son of a bitch......WHY IS THERE NO MORE?!?!?!?!?!?!?

We have been waiting for some closure since the beginning of time, and now it seems that the wait was not in vain.

even if you're not 1000% satisfied with what you have written for the next installment of this, we'll gladly take it.

I've had the two worst weeks at my dayjob that I've had in the whole time I've been there, so I haven't even been doing my main writing recently, but things are looking up, and I'm working on it this weekend.

>>23568
so long as you draw breath, things can get better. whenever you're ready to share what you've got, we'll be here.

>>23568
praise be to op!
a reply as recent as 5 months ago
sorry to hear about job :(

Will there be life?

>>23568
Uninvited, are you alive, bro?

and neither does this

oh no

Five years :(

I still have a candle burning for updates on this one. Keep the faith.

Ok, gonna finish this one.

>>24407

Yup, still alive!

>>17603
This inspires me. I've never tried writing as a hobby or as a creative outlet, but I do read a lot and I do care a great deal about stories, much the same as you. Maybe it's worth giving a try, just to see if it's something I enjoy or for which I have a talent. And who knows, maybe in a few months or a year I'll contribute to elit.

Enjoyable read here too. I'm a sucker for Celtic and Norse fiction in general. And that line, "One of my names is Andra. I would give it to you. For a time, I am yours," is a pretty decent hook, if ever I've read one. I do hope you finish this story eventually.