.So there I was, happily putting my newsletter together when one of my muses, secretly referred to as, Mr. Know-It-All, invaded my head space insisting I write what he wanted me to write. I mean, really! How rude can you be? It's not like I don't have other things to do!
Actually, I have a million and one things to do, and the list grows by leaps and bounds every single day, but I digress.
"It's nearly Halloween," says he, "and you still haven't worked on that story I gave you nearly a year ago. Now you'll miss this year's market! Don't you ever listen?"
"Of course, I listen, but you aren't the only one who talks to me, you know," I reply as my fingers fly across the keyboard. I try to ignore him. Suddenly I'm making tons of mistakes and in frustration I stop typing and smother a growl. "Speak and begone!"
"Don't tempt me, you ungrateful little wretch. Who do you think gave you Rory O'Malley? And who refused to keep their mouth shut when you nearly turned poor Delbert into the Prince of Wimps? Who stopped you from doing that and helped you save Bridget from a life of misery with a gutless little wonder she thought she wanted? "
"You did, " I admitted begrudgingly.
"You bet your sweet ass I did," he snapped. "And if you want my help in the future, you'd better at least start that damn story!"
"Okay, okay, I'll start the story, but I won't be able to finish it," I whine pitifully.
"It doesn't matter. I know you, and I should for you've driven me insane for the last ten years with your procrastination and dilly-dallying around. If you start it, you'll finish it, eventually," he stated rolling his eyes.
"And I've been thinking about it," he drawled, looking at his hands and flexing them. "I want you to add her sisters. It's always so much more fun when I have multiple women to play with."
"Anything else?" I ask through gritted teeth.
"Yes, do it now. Right now while I stand here. For some reason I don't trust you to follow my instructions and if you had any sense at all you would. Believe me, you don't want to piss me off, Stevie. There are others I could be helping."
"Why me?" I ask out of genuine curiosity. "Why do you help me?"
He was silent for so long, I thought he was not going to answer. Finally he replied, and it shocked me.
"Because you care. For you it's not about the money or the numbers or the name. It's about you trying to make people happy. You want to help them escape, as you escape when you're writing. It's freeing for you. It lightens your soul, and my dear, you've been sad for a very long time. And this is why I help you and I'll continue to until you don't need me anymore."
And there was not a thing I could say to that. I started writing.
The Witch Itch
She sat by the pool sweat trickling between her breasts and trailing from her hairline in minuscule rivulets. The sun had long ago driven the others inside. They argued over lunch and Gwen had no desire to antagonize him further. You’d think after nearly three centuries together she’d have learned his boundaries by now, but apparently not.
On her bare legs rested a novel. On the stand beside her was a glass of pink lemonade, the last ice cube now but a sliver. Oh what she wouldn’t give for a little breeze, she thought sighing.
Gwen clenched her hands into fists, her polished pink nails creating half-moon crescents in the palms of her hands and looked around. What could it hurt? Just a little breeze would be no trouble at all and no one would be the wiser.
Uncurling her fingers she tipped her head back against the chaise lounge and looked up at the blazing sky through her dark sunglasses. Slowly she beckoned the wind, her slender fingers moving in a ‘come to me manner’. A slight smile touched her lips as she felt the first tender breeze, then all hell broke loose.
A mighty gust caught her lounge from beneath sending it backward. Gwen tumbled ass over teakettle to the concrete as other empty lounges and cushions flew around her. She heard glass shattering as her drink crashed to the side of her. Blinking rapidly she slipped her glasses to the top of her head where they held back her long dark hair.
Crap! How the hell had that happened she wondered as she looked at her bleeding knee and gently touched her elbow? Her fingers came away red.
Suddenly she shivered. There was no point in looking up. He’d be there as he always was whenever she was hurt or in danger.
“I thought I asked you not to,” he said as he lifted her to her feet and marched her from the shambles she’d created.
“Asking is not telling,” she shot back, tugging ineffectually to remove her arm from his firm grasp. Peeking up at him from beneath her lashes she watched his dark eyebrow shoot up in disbelief.
“All right, I’m telling you. No more until after you see Benjamin next week.”
“My book,” she protested, looking over her shoulder.
Instantly it appeared under his arm.
"I don't need to see Benjamin, the Witch Doctor," she sneered. "My sisters will help me."
He snorted in derision.
"That's all we need, those two rebels interfering. Jocelyn and Cristelia have been thorns in my side since I rescued you."
All too soon he was opening the door to their suite and spinning her inside as he released her.
“I knew this vacation was a bad idea,” he stated angrily.
“I don’t see why,” she replied insistently. “It’s been a hundred years, at least since we had one.”
“That’s because you can’t behave, you little spawn of Satan,” he tossed back.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” she cried. “My mother was a good witch, my father a fallen angel, but that doesn’t make me evil!”
“You are correct! It makes you a naughty little witch,” Michael replied.
“Now see here…”
With an almost absent flick of his huge hand she flew through the air. Instinctively she braced herself for impact. Gwen landed against a wall that was as soft as a feather pillow in a spread eagle position. She was stuck as surely as if he’d glued her in place.
“Michael,” she whined nervously.
“Be still,” he ordered leaving her there as he went into the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth. Carefully he washed away the traces of blood from her knee. Pulling her arm down he bent it and cleaned her elbow as well. Then he kissed each wound. They healed as she looked into his eyes.
“Thank you,” she breathed as he gently stuck her arm back against the wall.
“Your words are premature,” he said coolly.
Gwendolyn gasped when he snapped his fingers and her white string bikini fell away.
“Why did you do it?” he asked curiously as he stood back and looked at her naked body
“I was hot. I just wanted a little breeze,” she admitted shamefully.
Michael pursed his lips and gently blew cool air that swept from her hair to her toes but seemed to be slightly more concentrated on her breasts and the juncture of her thighs. Her nipples pebbled into hard little nubs.
Gwen sighed in pleasure.
He stepped back and smiled. Then his eyes narrowed. She didn’t trust that particular smile, not for a moment. It wasn’t in any way a display of genuine amusement.
“I don’t like it when you disobey me,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I didn’t realize it was an order,” she snapped back trying not to glare at him. Her eyes swept the room looking for something suitable to hurl at him. Her fingers began to wiggle.
“My love, you’ve gotten very predictable,” he drawled taking her hands and trapping them between the small of her back and the wall. “I think I like this position better anyway,” he continued, blowing an icy blast toward the puckered peaks of her full breasts now arched toward him.
A low moan escaped her throat and she scowled. Damn him for being so handsome. He hadn’t aged a bit since the day she met him. He was still huge, towering over her. His black hair was as shiny as a raven’s wing, not a touch of silver anywhere and his stern gray eyes still had the power to render her tongue-tied.
What had changed was that he’d learned all her secrets, well, nearly all of them. He was also a much better lover than the man he’d been back when he was always in a hurry. Now Michael was slow and methodical, at least until his own passion overtook him. He could tease and torment her for hours if he so desired. Despite his still youthful appearance he was a mature man fully dedicated to making sure she was well protected and cared for.
“Michael let me down. I’m cold now,” she insisted making no effort to conceal her annoyance.
“I’m about to remedy that,” he replied smoothly.
Gwen stared into his eyes, noting his satisfied expression at the same instant she began to feel the heat begin on her bottom.
“Cutting corners are we?” she sassed.
“Yes, I thought we’d cut right to the chase,” he replied calmly as he watched her start to wiggle.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she moaned. “This is unacceptable. If you’re going to spank me, the least you could do is touch me.”
“But my darling, I am touching you. In my mind you’re over my knees and my hand is instructing you to listen when I speak to you,” he said with an evil grin. “Besides, this is so much more convenient. You’re not scratching and clawing to get away and I don’t have to listen to you caterwauling as though the hounds of hell were after you.”
“Yet,” she hissed.
“Yes, yet,” he agreed stepping closer and fastening his lips on hers.
Gwen screamed into his mouth feeling each searing swat even though his hands were gently cupping her face. His thumbs brushed away her tears yet he continued to chastise her, his powerful mind orchestrating the severity of each smack.
It was not until her cries had turned to whimpers that he released her lips and stroked her hair back from her forehead.
“I asked you not to use your powers until we’ve consulted Benjamin for advice,” he reiterated. “I hope I don’t have to remind you again.”
“You won’t,” Gwen sobbed, shivering as his hand trailed along her cheek. A moment later he cupped her naked breast, teasing her nipple. Soon he was stroking her tummy before he finally settled between her spread thighs.
“Ah,” he breathed in satisfaction. “Even a virtual spanking excites you. This is good to know,” he crooned as he buried his long finger inside her.
Gwen let her head drop in defeat.
“Do not be embarrassed my darling Gwendolyn. I am hard as well. Although this method lacks a certain intimacy it’s certainly much quieter. I’ll reserve the use of this for those times when we are not alone.”
His hand was busy. Now two fingers were sliding in and out of her, his thumb rubbing gently across her nub. She bit her lip.
“You may come, naughty little witch,” he offered. “You’ve paid the piper and I won’t deprive you of your pleasure…this time. Come my darling, come hard. I want to feel your body clutching my fingers. I want to feel your swollen nubbin quivering against my hand,” he whispered. Leaning forward he drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.
Gwen cried out and he placed his other hand over her mouth.
“Shh, we don’t need security in here,” he warned as he released her nipple with a pop. “Remember what happened the last time we stayed in a hotel?”
“Good, now heed my words and take your release before I change my mind,” he growled before moving toward her other nipple. “I’m going to ride you soon. I’ll be taking every inch of your sweet slit and you know it’s often uncomfortable when I don’t hold back. And Gwen, I’ve no intention of holding back. I’m going to fuck you deep and hard,” he stated looking into her wide eyes.
“You’ll cry a bit, you always do, but you know that after I’ve punished you, my need is great. Even after all these years I still do not understand why you misbehave so when you know the price you pay will be twofold,” he remarked before nuzzling her neck.
She moaned against the hand covering her mouth when he pushed his fingers deep and fluttered them.
“How wet and warm you are my naughty darling. Hurry now before my patience runs out,” he breathed against her skin.
She knew Michael was as good as his word. Most times he was a gentle, tender lover, stifling his passion and taking possession of her delicate body slowly. Often she could not accommodate his full length and girth easily and he carefully eased most of his cock inside her body as he stimulated her nub with his fingers. It was his practice to stretch her and he had special oils he used to pave the way. But not after a punishment. Never after a punishment.
Then he was strict and determined. She belonged to him. She was his wife. He’d saved her life nearly three hundred years ago and she would obey him for the rest of hers. He might not be able to control all of her actions, but he would control her body and he would take his pleasure from that body as he chose.
To Be Continued…