Page 122 of To Free a Soul
The inhuman god went faster, and Lindiwe’s mind blanked out as she let out a scream so powerful it wassilent.She clawed, she kicked, and her pussy quivered and spasmed.
He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, and her climax continued on, and on, until she was a near-sobbing mess. He didn’t even soften his movements when she came down from rapture, and all she could do was blissfully experience the torture. It was too much; it was perfect. She wanted more; she was getting too sensitive. Her hands and hips pushed at him to get away, yet her legs and pussy clung so tightly.
She never asked him to stop, never pleaded for it to end.
And one thing was certain: the moment he took over, she stopped thinking about anything other than the all-consuming bliss.
May 16th, 1972
When did the weightless shadows become comforting? When did Lindiwe begin seeing this place as her home? When did it start to feel safe and welcoming? When did she begin to feel those things, and more, about its owner? When... when... when?
These weren’t questions she could answer.
His onyx eyes, so inhuman and strange, once filled her with fear and dread. Like the piercing, unfeeling gaze of a god looking down on a mere mortal being. It felt like his pitch-black orbs would change her, corrupt her,breakher.
She never expected that she’d one day find them... beautiful. They peered with such interest and curiosity, with such intensity and care, even if they lacked any perceptible emotion. They were keen and watchful, and Lindiwe had been sucked into those glossy pools of darkness many times over.
So when had she begun to look at him the same way, with curiosity, and see not his lacking exterior, but into his very cloud and find it ethereal?
Why was she here, now, half-awake in his realm, but unableto tear herself away from sleep because it meant facing reality? Why was she sore in the most wonderful way, tender in all the right places – as if her whole body had been worshipped – but it couldn’t overshadow how she was bleeding out?
Why does it have to hurt so much?
More than ever, her chest ached beyond recognition. There were wounds in places the eye couldn’t see, and no medicine or spell could heal. Her heart felt battered and bruised, like it’d been punched and jabbed at repeatedly.
And she had no one else to blame but herself.
Something brushed her cheek, perhaps the back of a knuckle or a claw. “Why are you crying, Lindiwe?”
Her eyes snapped open and she sat up.I’m... crying?
She didn’t even look at Weldir as she touched her cheek and peered down at her wet, tear-stained fingertips. Seeing them made her chest tighten, and more spilled over.
Lindiwe bit her lips shut, her vision blurred, and droplets began to drip off her nose and jaw.I can cry like my children.Here, in this place, when they departed from her skin, they lifted off and floated around her face. They didn’t glow, they didn’t look as pretty, but they hovered around so she could see the evidence of them so cruelly.
Lindiwe didn’t sob. There weren’t any whimpers. Her pain was so profound that her body didn’t know how to expel it other than to cry silently and listlessly.
“I... can’t do this anymore,” she whispered.
She thought sex would make her feel better, but the momentary numbness only made her feel worse. It made her reality sink deeper in and inform her that it was all... hopeless.
All the longing and yearning in the world wouldn’t change a thing. She was wishing for things she could never have, and the crater of yawning loneliness was only growing wider.
“Do what?” Weldir asked, his voice lovely, yet his tone so dull. “Sleep here?”
Holding her cloak to her chest to shield her nudity, thankful he’d covered her in it, she searched for her dress.
“I can’t be here anymore,” she told him, quietly and calmly to hide the fear and panic settling in. “I don’t want to be intimate anymore.”
“What?” Weldir asked as he followed her. “Why?”
Lindiwe threw her dress over her body, then threw her cloak around her shoulders. She swam for her underwear, tied one side, and then slipped it on to tie the other at her hip.
“I just don’t want to.”
“But you enjoyed yourself. A lot, if your moaning and pleading for more were any indication.” When she refused to look at him, her expression pinching in sadness, he came to her and placed a bent forefinger under her chin to make her meet his gaze. “Did I do something wrong?”
Before she could greet those captivating, glossy midnight eyes, she snapped her head away.
