The Succling and Her Dues

Chapter Two: Act 4

[Victorian District, 2018]

“Please, don’t c*m yet!” Anara mewled as Trenton’s shaft continuously penetrated her. The tip of his c**k breached her cervix, tapping against the mucus plug. She secreted more fluid from her core, coating his engorged phallus. Feeling her insides churning from both gut-wrenching fear of the inevitable and pure ecstasy of s*x, she pulled him in, moaning into their kiss, “Right there! Don’t stop.”

“Ughhh, fuuuuck!” His hands curled from behind her back and gripped onto her shoulders. “I’ll hold it in as long as you want,” he groaned. It was only a matter of time before he’d c*m inside her. In his mind, Her p***y's like magic.

Her vaginal walls compressed around his c**k, pulsating with every stroke. With her face flushed, Trenton lifted away from her and grasped her inner thighs, pumping harder and faster than he had ever done before. “c*m for me, baby.”

She bit her lip and tugged on her n*****s. Though it wasn’t the first or second time hearing it from a man, Anara couldn’t help but see her former lover’s face staring back at her. It was different, but it felt right for some reason. Like he was made to satisfy her. “I’m about to c*m!”

“Yeah? Let’s c*m together—”

I can’t do this! Remembering what must be done, Anara felt herself unraveling with doubt. She had subdued many men throughout the years for the sake of satiating Cauva’s hunger, but it was harder with Trenton than she’d like to admit.

He felt familiar. Looked like him. Her body could not produce the toxic waste needed to fixate him into a still-living corpse. “Stop!” She pushed against his chest, forcing him to pull out and spill his seed over the antique comforters.

Confused, Trenton c****d his head to the side, sweat dripping down his chest. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I…” Out of breath, Anara swung her legs over the edge of the bed and dashed toward her gown that lay in a pile on the rug. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Did I do something wrong?” He, too, fled the bed and scurried toward his boxer briefs and trousers, putting them on. “Was I not satisfying your needs?”

“No, no, no. It was amazing. And that’s the problem.” He didn’t need to know that. “It’s just that—I’m just…”

“Just what?” he hissed.

His narrowing gaze sent chills down her spine. Anara looked away, deciding it was best to start counting the number of circles threaded into the rug, or name colors that drenched the cubical area of the suffocating room.

She had never confronted her fears head-on. The dread of falling for someone she couldn’t have. She prided herself for too long on being generous. Though she coveted the one thing that Cauva demanded: Phillip. Perhaps she was too selfish to think that she could have one more thing to herself.

Turning around, Anara laughed. “You’ll never understand.” She slipped into the pocket of her dress, pulling it up past her waist. Her ass pushed up from the tightness of the fabric.

Trenton couldn’t help but stare as she struggled to fit in the flashy fabric. It almost made him forget why she decided to stop. Then, like a glove, the fabric covered her. Hugging her curves. “Enlighten me, then.” He trudged over, cautious not to upset her further.

“It’s not just you. I regret listening to my father. Right now, I can’t fathom being in the same room as you. Is that something you’d like to hear?” Pain filtered through, with tears trailing down Anara's cheeks. “I wish you could understand what I’m going through, but I know you’d think I’ve gone mad.” She finished pulling the straps over her shoulders, sulking. “What's worse, I’m beginning to like you, Mr. Welkers.” A sad smile graced her lips.

Sudden realization hit. She spilled her heart out with two others latching on to every word. She could feel the invisible waves of anger radiating from the fireplace. Her chest tightened, knowing well what might happen once she left his penthouse.

Trenton embraced her from behind, sinking his head into the crook of her neck.

She jolted from his touch, but then her body relaxed into his, eyes wide and filled with surprise and happiness. Her cheeks burned as the pads of his thumbs strummed against her upper arms.

“Why push me away?” he asked, kissing her shoulder.

“I’m not sure.” Why did I? She pondered this, creating excuses in her head, ones she heard Aquarius make against unpleasant men in the town square. Like feeling under the weather or forgetting she had another engagement at a port by the citadel. No matter the excuse, she believed he’d see right through her.

Ripping off the band-aid, she claimed, “Maybe… I’m scared of what will happen next.” At any moment, Cauva and Aquarius could leap from the flames and strike him down. Consume his flesh and move on, leaving the heart for her to feed from.

Tears fled from her lashes, creating rivets and streams through the messy mascara and patchy foundation.

Trenton pulled her down to the floor and cradled her in his arms, combing his fingers through her hair. The smell of his spearmint cologne put her at ease. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Her breath hitched. She didn’t expect an apology from him. He did nothing wrong except exist. For so long she waited for another chance, but her heart was tearing apart imagining his death. Clinging to his shoulders, she kissed him.

She needed more. He wanted her to stay that way forever. Neither desired to pull away.

Anara reluctantly drew back, wiping the last of her tears. “I must go.”

Though disheartened, Trenton helped her up and laced her into her gown. The silence between them in the hall leading up to the front door was maddening. He, nor she, would speak.

His hands jostled the entrance door, his jaw clenched with reddened eyes.

Anara glanced from her side at him, biting her lip. Her heart stung in the presence of his dispirited aura. It’s for the best, she thought. I hope she understands. She left his penthouse, racing down the steps before her, then descended the spiraling staircase.

As she reached the last steps, Anara couldn’t help but look back up the intricate tube of rails and interconnected metal boards. A part of her wished he would barrel down after her. For a moment, she had forgotten how to breathe. A lump was stuck in her throat. He wasn’t at all like her previous lover. Perhaps it was best that she did not develop feelings for Trenton. Death had already claimed her since the beginning.

The wind picked up from the East, with a light sprinkle. No storm cloud insight, though, which meant—

“Care to explain what happened?” Cauva snarled.

Anara jumped, whipping around. Color bled from her irises, becoming just as dull and empty as her narrowing pupils.

Aquarius stepped out from behind Cauva, her head bowed. She looked up for a split second, mouthing out, “We’re dead.”

☽☀☾

“f**k!” Trenton slammed his fist into the granite countertop beside the kitchen sink. Scavenging through a number of cabinets, he found a shot glass and an unopened bottle of whiskey.

“Why are women so goddamn complicated?” he muttered to himself. He poured a glass and scarfed it down. The burning sensation of a smokey apple cleared his throat, settling his nerves.

Ten shots later, it occurred to him that he needed to head into the office early the next morning. He dreaded traveling to the citadel, but it paid him well. Maintaining his dead father’s business was not at all how he envisioned his life. Not to say that their relationship dwindled, but he knew honest work wouldn’t pay for his current lifestyle. Its purpose and family name, however, served him well.

Speaking of purpose, he passed a thin door as he walked down the hall toward his chamber. One might miss it if they weren’t actively looking for it. The Victorian gold frame blended in with the decorative wallpaper, which covered the entire length from the entrance door to the entryway leading to the kitchen, filled with lush tropical foliage and miniature imprints of naked women dancing.

“Styna!” he yelled, recalling her nasty dinner greeting. Moments passed before the door clicked open and sailed forward from the wall. Styna’s heels clicked along the marble floor as she exited the pitch-black closet.

It occurred to Trenton how small she really was, as her shoulders grazed centimeters away from the door frame. A faint cyan glow blinked behind her as the door sank back into the wall. Must be her charging station, he thought.

Styna pitched her head to the side. “Yes, sir?” The sinister grin that plastered her face churned his stomach.

Pleasantries and confrontation were no longer on the table. His c**k hardened seeing that she was no longer in uniform. What would have been a blouse and pencil skirt was now replaced with a black-laced nightgown that left little to the imagination.

“Follow me.”

He re-entered the kitchen, with Styna following close behind. Shuffling through some drawers, he pulled out a lengthy candlestick, a box of matches, a turkey baster, and a sturdy metal spatula. “Boil a pot of water,” he commanded.

She obliged. Minutes later, a timer went off, meaning the water was a scalding two-hundred and five degrees. “What else, Mr. Welkers?”

Trenton picked up the candle and a match, narrowing his gaze on the golden marble tile behind Styna. “Turn around and get on all fours.”