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Another sly nod had Taliah, curving her arm around the man, her skin tracing across his body to begin removing clothes. They were peeled seductively, all the time with the fool mesmerised by the enchantment she still managed to produce. Hmm. Stimulating. His own cock hardened at the vision, enough so that he continued watching for a few moments – enthralled.
The kissing of lips brought on a grunt of appreciation from the oaf, his hands daring to touch something that did not belong to him. Pascal watched on, though, waiting for the correct moment to introduce interest to his responses. It would come when the oaf was trouser less. Trousers were problematic on the guillotine. They hindered access to the shackles, unless they were cut off, but then the oaf would have to drive to his home without them. His own brow rose. What exemplary training that would be.
He knocked Taliah away, spinning with aplomb to manhandle the goliath to the bench before his wits had kicked in to help. More grunting occurred, the sound of which increased Pascal’s speed to shackle both legs into position and force him on his back. The brute was stronger than he’d given credit to. Still, he would not move again until he was told.
“The fuck?” the oaf squawked. Indeed. Lots of fucks. The moron would be fucked until he bled, and then perhaps allowed respite before he rammed a cane up his ass to remind him of the word Sir. Taliah giggled once more, watching as Pascal tried to regain breath. Seemed he was unfit.
Deplorable.
“Do I appear sagging?” he asked Taliah, still a little short of breath as he yanked at his tie. This was inexcusable, but he supposed too much time delving into happy ever afters produced such foibles. He ripped at his shirt and waistcoat, too, infuriated at such thoughts.
“You look good to me.” she said, still giggling. “Quite boisterous.” Hmm. Not boisterous enough. This was Alexander's fault. Labouring in wait was debilitating to fitness, and his weight has lessened without the need for muscle to deal with the man. Not enough strenuous fucking either had been employed to keep him in top form.
“You have upset me,” he snapped, picking up his cane again and flicking at the oaf’s throat. “What did I ask you to call me?” The oaf looked confused. Pascal increased the pressure at the moron’s throat and straddled across his waist on the bench. A cock throbbed beneath his breeches. Perhaps the man was not quite so disinterested in gay meanders. “Why does your cock throb for me?”
“Get the fuck off.”
“No. What did I ask you to call me?”
“I don’t know what the hell-“
“Did you not hear what Taliah called me? It was a simple request.” The moron opened his mouth to grumble or complain. Pascal shoved his cane straight across the oaf’s lips and pushed backwards until the ebony locked into place in the holders to the side of the guillotine. “Ah, this is much more acceptable, no? Peaceful. Compliant.” The oaf shuffled about, presumably trying for escape. It would not come any time soon. He smirked at the fool and levered himself off the still hard cock. Unfortunately, he was not remotely interested in it. It was attached to someone other than Alexander, and that thought alone pushed him passed any normal level of decency.
“Taliah, aggravate him while I set up the blade. And place a condom on it.”
More squawks and grunts came after that sentence, the fool’s body still trying to outwit steel shackles built more than a century ago. Stupidity.
Pascal lowered the angled blade slowly, giving it three inches of distance from the oaf’s neck, and then locked the mechanism into place. He grabbed the rope pull, caring not if the old hinge still worked effectively or not. There was too much Alexander in his mind now, too much magnification of anger coursing his blood. Perhaps the blade would stop, perhaps it would not. Who cared anymore? Something needed to be stimulated past this boredom he had deteriorated within for too long.
Maybe murder would prove interesting.
It seemed to work for Alexander.
He nodded at Taliah, ordering her to jump on board and deal with fucking moron’s who had not the decency to respect him properly. Fucking inbreeds. He would learn to call him Sir and nothing else than that.
Taliah did indeed jump on. She fucked and rutted as if the end of the world might come, all the time looking at her Sir and reminding him of times gone by before Alexander’s and Lilah’s arrival into the fray. They were good times, exemplary times. Times filled with responsibility and demands on his soul, but times he missed nevertheless. He had purpose then. A reason to be. He taught and levelled people’s misgivings, allowing them a freedom he himself had forgotten. Although – he smirked – that freedom was returning with aplomb now.
It needed to.
His fingers let go of the rope, causing the blade to fall with a hiss of beauty. It cut the air, scraping the edges of the guillotine’s frame and quickening speed. His eyes watched nothing but the eyes of the oaf, enjoying the fear that poured from his sockets, until the blade halted three inches from his throat. Hmm. Dull. He glanced up at Taliah, who was still managing to enjoy her fucking without thought to decapitation.
“What did I ask you to call me?” he snarled, watching Taliah’s exquisite frame lurching about on cock. The oaf shook, nothing more than that and mumbled some things through the cane. “It was only three letters together. I cannot understand why it is so hard to remember.” Pascal drew the blade up again, unbuckling his belt at the same time and then removing the trousers entirely. “You still fuck so well, my dear,” he mused, climbing across the oaf’s stomach and straddling him. “Perhaps you could remind me of the sensations while this moron tries to find the word I asked for. Use us both, no? Open your mouth.” She smirked and did exactly as asked, so he pushed the rope into it nodding at her to clamp her teeth. “And now remove your cunt from him, and put him in your ass.” She did that too, just as a good little sub should.
The oaf groaned behind, not that Pascal was listening. He was more interested in the little cunt waiting for his cock. More interested in what damage that cock could do, as he slid himself lower and asked her to mount it. The feel of her was divine. Dirty, filthy in her perusals of fucking. No love. No recrimination for actions she may or may not be responsible for. Just fucking. Ravenous and hungry fucking. The oaf’s cock glided against his own, thin skin separating them. Tight indeed. He leaned his head back and revelled in the debauchery, careful to keep it from the path of the guillotine. She would open her mouth when she came, scream aloud just as she always did, and then maybe the blade would stop its tumble onto the oaf’s throat again, or maybe it wouldn’t and decapitation would occur.
He smiled and let her ride him. An interesting thought.
Necrophilia wasn’t an area he’d delved into before.
Chapter 7
Lilah
The silence that echoes through the phone line is of no use to anyone, no matter how brooding he might be. It’s typical of Alex these days, as if he’s shut down on this side of his love affairs and is trying to concentrate on Beth alone.
Unfortunately, he’s not doing that very well either.
“Have you got any idea where he might be?” he eventually asks, slight concern in his voice.
