Part IV of Pixie's StoryGet to know Pixie, the cute noobie from our original Passing Zephyr series:
Her dark past haunts Murderer's Bar (and his shirt) a while before
Miss Cecile's Story begins the seduction,
the Sexy Bartender gives his two cents
while Miss Sweet observes them all.
Pixie's memories from before meeting Miss Sweet began in Part 1 continuing with a lusty trip to the bar in Part II. She got more than she could handle last week in Part III and the terror continues this week...
The door opened spilling light across the floor and blinding her nocturnal sight.
With her senses reeling, each step across the room on hollow wooden floors pounded like a punch to her stomach. Vibrations and sounds becoming magnified in the stead of her deprived vision. But by the time her eyes adjusted, the door was shut and he was gone again. Along with the mummy. And the dripping.
Silence filled her ears and her head. The brief reprieve from the monster triggered a traitorous sliver of hope to wiggle under her skin.
She dozed lightly in a strange trance fighting back the nightmares of an idle mind, until she was roused to full consciousness by the comforting smell of fresh baked bread and apple roasted pork. Dinner?
That sliver of hope dug deeper into her tenderized mental state.
Was it possible his intentions were some twisted version of romance and not terrorism? Maybe she could charm her way out of these suffocating bindings. He would surely want to touch her bare skin. Wouldn't he? Her skin crawled at the disturbing images pacing just beneath the surface of her consciousness, nightmares of what a massive mute beast of a man might think was romantic on her skin. But she pushed them away and focused on the sharp stinging sliver and allowed the poison to fill her head. Better to dwell on the doubtful methods of survival than become consumed by certain death.
This time when she heard the door knob turn she squeezed her eyes tight against the light in hopes of glimpsing his body and perhaps his motives. But this time he came to her.
Steps approached slowly and solidly resonating against the wooden floor. She slit her eyes and struggled to keep her breathing below a sprinter's pace. His massive thighs came into her line of sight, no longer a stimulus to her libido but to her fear.
So large. He was so fucking huge. There was no way she could fight against whatever he wanted to do her. It had been burned into her consciousness hours ago that she was at his mercy. Now the important question was, did he have any?
He stopped and her field of vision was filled with denim taunt against flexed muscle. She closed her eyes and fought against a deep shaking growing in her arms.
His fingers corralled loose hair from her face and she twitched with such violence that her calf muscles screamed in the midst of knotted charlie horses. Tears streamed down her face and she refused to scream again.
That familiar deep growl accompanied his return caress across the wet tracks on her face. The pain of cramped muscles faded to the back of her mind as he pulled her chin up to gaze at his face. There was no pity there for her distress. Empathy was not be had. Lust was oddly absent as well. Her blood turned to ice at the dark detached gaze. There would be no mercy either. This mute beast had staked his claim on her.
Once he saw the terror widen and glaze her eyes, he left.
Come back next Saturday to see how Pixie escapes...