The Neighbourhood
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
9,119
Reviews:
41
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
9,119
Reviews:
41
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Esser von Seelen
This story contains violence, language, death, angst, abuse, and sex.
Reviews are welcome as is constructive criticism.
Chapter 6
Esser von Seelen.
He was a young man with long eyelashes and big, black eyes. His golden hair hung in curls around his serene face. His torso was bare, no muscle definition under his porcelain skin.
He had a tattoo similar to Crowley’s just above his right nipple. His delicate hands were folded on his lap, a black serpent eating its tail around his middle finger. The fingernails were long and gnarled, an extreme contrast to his beautiful elegance. Around each of his small wrists were three more black serpents eating their own tails. They were made out of obsidian and had little rubies for eyes.
The man before him was in a stiff business suit and a checkered tie. Beatrice recognised him as the man who had been on the cover of a magazine her dad used to read. He was a famous millionaire.
“Please, your majesty! I’ll do anything,” He pleaded.
The young man sat back in his velvet chair and stroked his beardless chin. He had to be at least 30 years younger than the man before him. Beatrice was confused. What was he doing here and why was he calling this guy majesty?
“I am extremely sorry, Mr. Morris. But there is nothing left inside of you,” the younger man said in a voice as soft and smooth as the velvet he sat on.
He sounded as if he couldn’t care less, and Mr. Morris wiped away beads of sweat from his forehead nervously.
“I’ll…I’ll give you my daughter. My wife, anything you want!”
“How old is your daughter?”
“Twenty-three, your majesty.”
The young man examined his nails thoughtfully.
“Bring her to me and I will look at her. You better hope she has something, Mr. Morris. Now leave,” he said, dismissing him.
He hurried past them, frowning, his brow furrowed.
“Ah, Alexandre. I was wondering when you would come. Who do you have there?” He asked, looking Beatrice over.
She felt a brief thrill of fear, and then it was gone when the young man smiled brilliantly at her.
“She’s homeless, your majesty. She ran away and is stayin with me,” Crowley replied, glancing at Beatrice and pushing her forward.
Beatrice gave his majesty a small smile, feeling like a prize on display as he stood up and walked around her, examining her as he had his grotesque nails.
“Why did you run away, Miss Villaroz?” He said, meeting her eyes.
Beatrice was disturbed by his dark eyes but she didn’t look away.
Who is this man?
“How did you know my name?”
The young man leaned forward and put his hand on her head.
“It’s on your soul, darling. Everything about you is there. And I can see it, feel it, smell it,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
His hand was cold on her head and Beatrice wanted to pull away from him, tell him if he ever touched her again she’d kick him where it hurts. But she didn’t, because she sensed this man was powerful and extremely important. Both Mr. Morris and Crowley had called him ‘your majesty’, after all.
His majesty breathed deep, as if he was indeed smelling her soul. Beatrice got goose bumps.
“Sweet…so very sweet,” he murmured.
Abruptly he opened his eyes and took his hand off her head, stepping away from her and looking at Crowley. He must have done something only Crowley saw because suddenly he tensed, his jaw tightening as it did when he was angry.
“No,” Crowley said, a dangerous edge to his voice.
The young man’s eyes grew red and the tension in the air was palpable.
And then…
“Very well. But remember, Alexandre, you still owe me. You or the girl,” he said.
Suddenly he thrust his hand at Beatrice’s stomach, but instead of throwing her back his hand sunk into her as if she was quicksand. Beatrice gasped, her body going stiff. It felt as if he was pulling out her insides, and she tried to push him away but found she couldn’t move.
God help me!
The man pulled his hand out, but there was no blood and no intestines in his hand and her stomach was exactly as it had been, her shirt completely smooth. Instead he held a wisp of blue cloud that wriggled.
Beatrice fainted.
“No!” Crowley cried out, and caught her before she fell to the ground.
“Wait…just-just let me think about it!”
The young man caressed the cloud slowly, then blew it back into Beatrice.
“I’ll give you a week to decide,” he said, looking longingly at the unconscious girl.
“Now go… before I change my mind.”
Crowley picked Beatrice up and put her over his shoulder.
Just as he was about to open the door to leave, his majesty said, “You do know that if you hadn’t brought the girl here I would have found her myself and taken everything inside of her?”
Crowley opened the door and stepped out. “I know. That’s why I came,” he said and shut the door.
~~~~~~~~~
AN--
Yeah, it took me awhile. Thanks for reading.
Reviews are welcome as is constructive criticism.
Chapter 6
Esser von Seelen.
He was a young man with long eyelashes and big, black eyes. His golden hair hung in curls around his serene face. His torso was bare, no muscle definition under his porcelain skin.
He had a tattoo similar to Crowley’s just above his right nipple. His delicate hands were folded on his lap, a black serpent eating its tail around his middle finger. The fingernails were long and gnarled, an extreme contrast to his beautiful elegance. Around each of his small wrists were three more black serpents eating their own tails. They were made out of obsidian and had little rubies for eyes.
The man before him was in a stiff business suit and a checkered tie. Beatrice recognised him as the man who had been on the cover of a magazine her dad used to read. He was a famous millionaire.
“Please, your majesty! I’ll do anything,” He pleaded.
The young man sat back in his velvet chair and stroked his beardless chin. He had to be at least 30 years younger than the man before him. Beatrice was confused. What was he doing here and why was he calling this guy majesty?
“I am extremely sorry, Mr. Morris. But there is nothing left inside of you,” the younger man said in a voice as soft and smooth as the velvet he sat on.
He sounded as if he couldn’t care less, and Mr. Morris wiped away beads of sweat from his forehead nervously.
“I’ll…I’ll give you my daughter. My wife, anything you want!”
“How old is your daughter?”
“Twenty-three, your majesty.”
The young man examined his nails thoughtfully.
“Bring her to me and I will look at her. You better hope she has something, Mr. Morris. Now leave,” he said, dismissing him.
He hurried past them, frowning, his brow furrowed.
“Ah, Alexandre. I was wondering when you would come. Who do you have there?” He asked, looking Beatrice over.
She felt a brief thrill of fear, and then it was gone when the young man smiled brilliantly at her.
“She’s homeless, your majesty. She ran away and is stayin with me,” Crowley replied, glancing at Beatrice and pushing her forward.
Beatrice gave his majesty a small smile, feeling like a prize on display as he stood up and walked around her, examining her as he had his grotesque nails.
“Why did you run away, Miss Villaroz?” He said, meeting her eyes.
Beatrice was disturbed by his dark eyes but she didn’t look away.
Who is this man?
“How did you know my name?”
The young man leaned forward and put his hand on her head.
“It’s on your soul, darling. Everything about you is there. And I can see it, feel it, smell it,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
His hand was cold on her head and Beatrice wanted to pull away from him, tell him if he ever touched her again she’d kick him where it hurts. But she didn’t, because she sensed this man was powerful and extremely important. Both Mr. Morris and Crowley had called him ‘your majesty’, after all.
His majesty breathed deep, as if he was indeed smelling her soul. Beatrice got goose bumps.
“Sweet…so very sweet,” he murmured.
Abruptly he opened his eyes and took his hand off her head, stepping away from her and looking at Crowley. He must have done something only Crowley saw because suddenly he tensed, his jaw tightening as it did when he was angry.
“No,” Crowley said, a dangerous edge to his voice.
The young man’s eyes grew red and the tension in the air was palpable.
And then…
“Very well. But remember, Alexandre, you still owe me. You or the girl,” he said.
Suddenly he thrust his hand at Beatrice’s stomach, but instead of throwing her back his hand sunk into her as if she was quicksand. Beatrice gasped, her body going stiff. It felt as if he was pulling out her insides, and she tried to push him away but found she couldn’t move.
God help me!
The man pulled his hand out, but there was no blood and no intestines in his hand and her stomach was exactly as it had been, her shirt completely smooth. Instead he held a wisp of blue cloud that wriggled.
Beatrice fainted.
“No!” Crowley cried out, and caught her before she fell to the ground.
“Wait…just-just let me think about it!”
The young man caressed the cloud slowly, then blew it back into Beatrice.
“I’ll give you a week to decide,” he said, looking longingly at the unconscious girl.
“Now go… before I change my mind.”
Crowley picked Beatrice up and put her over his shoulder.
Just as he was about to open the door to leave, his majesty said, “You do know that if you hadn’t brought the girl here I would have found her myself and taken everything inside of her?”
Crowley opened the door and stepped out. “I know. That’s why I came,” he said and shut the door.
~~~~~~~~~
AN--
Yeah, it took me awhile. Thanks for reading.