Moonspawn (2 page)

The woman emerged with a graceful turn, one hand holding the pipes to steady her. She was an apparition of desire, the most gorgeous expression of feminine beauty Kira could have predicted, and what was even more startling, was that Kira had seen her before.

The milk-white skin of the woman shone like ivory against the night, her elegant face wreathed with long albino hair that shimmered in the soft breeze. Her dark eyes winked with ferocity and power, her lips were stained red, her bared incisors wet with the blood of the hunter.

Her tall and glorious physique bore a thin studded 12

choker, a gloss trench-coat open and hanging behind her as a dark backdrop to her body. A strapless latex bra cupped her breasts together, offering a deep and inviting cleavage. Fishnet covered her thighs and reached into the tall boots. Fingerless leather gloves allowed her digits to emerge, each digit tipped with a wicked, ebony talon.

‘Not bad, not bad at all,’ she purred, wiping the excess from her lips onto the back of her hand.

Stepping over the body she sauntered forward, flowing like liquid towards the huddled and quaking form of Kira.

‘You, but how, I—’ she began, her mind muddled.

‘Shhhh, my little one. Explanations are for later. First we have to get you somewhere safe. Dawn is on the way.’

She extended a hand to Kira, her face soft and inviting, her tone seductive and irresistible.

With trembling fingers Kira gradually reached up and put her own hand in that of the woman’s. With a soft pull she was brought to her feet and into the embrace of the female, the soothing familiarity making Kira melt.

She closed her eyes, the stress visited upon her by the chase, the fight, and the last few days dragging her from consciousness. Riven with exhaustion and tribulation and now given solace, Kira drifted into a faint, falling as a slack mannequin into the awaiting arms of the woman of her dreams, the memory of her reviving and returning in full.

The equations and problems on the page before her were starting to merge and shift, writhing like serpents, unintelligible. Her eyes were heavy, her thoughts furious at having been preoccupied for so long with the extensive homework.

It was her last year of school, it was almost over. Just a 13

little longer and she would be free. It wasn’t even
her
homework, because once again she had been bullied into it.

Just the mere thought of the incident had her rubbing her injured arm and scowling with rancour. Why did they keep picking on her? Her life was hard enough, she didn’t need others making it even more complex.

She wished she had the strength to stand up to them, but she was afraid, she just wasn’t aggressive. Sure, she would spend hours afterwards brooding on all the things she could have done, all the vicious retaliation she could have undertaken, but when it came around to another encounter, she folded immediately, compliant and weak.

She hated herself for that, hated being such a victim, yet here she was toiling into the middle of the night to do their homework for them.

There was a soft click behind her and she turned to see who it was, thinking that perhaps her parents had come home early. Looking to the side, she panned her gaze through the room. The second floor bedroom was large but filled with only two kinds of adornment, each in direct opposition to the other. Everything was either fuzzy animals, posters of boy bands and frivolous toys, or books and charts of pure science and learning, academic accessories complemented by exercise books filled with her own projections and work.

There was no one there, so she dismissed it as a product of sleep deprivation. As she regarded her room she caught herself in the mirror, the frame decorated with fluffy toys and simpering saccharine concessions to the image her parents held of what a wholesome young girl should find appealing.

Her ice-blue eyes were rimmed with red, a shade to 14

match her curling ginger locks, the strands hanging in tight spirals but dishevelled from lack of trained attention.

She was still in her school uniform, having lacked the time and effort to change because of the workload she faced this night. Her parents were out again, socialising with their clique, bragging about how important they were, how much they earned, and all those who were subordinate to their every whim.

Kira would readily trade all their prolific and grandiose gifts and purchases for some actual genuine attention from them. They bought her such things just to make her more valuable, like adding a pool to a house to increase its intrinsic value. It was because she, like everything they had, was just another bauble to impress and add to their standing – the daughter in the most prestigious school, whose grades stood out over all others.

They didn’t care about her.

‘You’re a total fuck up,’ she accused at her reflection.

‘You’re going to be a doormat all your life. No one will love you, and death will end up being the only thing you’ll look forward to,’ she continued, and then closed her eyes tightly, tears welling in the corners.

‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,’ she chanted, and then sniffled back her distress.

It felt good to drop her eyelids, the orbs beneath them requiring a break. Kira decided to lay her head down, just for a while, just a few minutes so she could rest and then revitalise herself a little before finishing up.

A gust of wind rushed over her face, cooling her skin and making her jolt up from her slouch. Her eyes focused and she saw that the window was now open before her, the night breeze wafting through and making the curtains 15

dance.

Leaning forward, she grabbed the handle and hauled it closed, the glass suddenly reflecting the image of someone standing behind her. With a squeak of shock she turned, catching a vague image of the woman before she was grabbed and hurled aside.

Careering across the room she collapsed onto the pink sheets of her bed, bouncing upon the mattress, disorientated by her brief flight and from being awoken so suddenly.

The woman dropped across her chest, pinning her down, her black-nailed hands snagging Kira’s wrists and shoving them into the sheets. Kira whimpered and struggled weakly, her eyes fixed to the visage of the woman.

Her long snow-white hair was tied back into a ponytail, the silken locks fixed with a midnight ribbon. Her dark eyes were wreathed by a token application of brooding make-up and her lips were painted a deep blue, stretched wide upon an amused grin.

She wore a latex basque, the material hugging her body, presenting her breasts within sculpted cups. The suspenders reached beneath her high thong and grabbed fine denier stockings that poured across her legs and into knee high zipped boots, the patent footwear armed with a dagger heel. Opera gloves rolled along her arms, the fabric rippling as her muscles kept Kira subdued, the fingers of the gloves severed.

Kira opened her mouth to scream for help, but as she sucked in a deep gasp to unleash, the woman dove in and clamped her mouth across Kira’s.

Panicked wriggling joined her squeal of protest and she fought desperately as her arms were hauled up over 16

her head, her wrists being crossed before the woman’s left hand ensnared the connection. Kira tugged fervently, but the strength of this woman was more than a match for her, and she could do nothing to resist.

The freed hand wandered down and cupped Kira’s breast, gently hugging the budding flesh as a tongue reached into her mouth. A finger teased across her nipple and she gasped with pleasure, suddenly pausing in her battle to get free. Then her eyes rolled back as the hand continued its work, bringing forth a wonderful flood of sensation, washing away her resistance.

The pointed toes of the woman’s boots reached in and hooked to her inner thighs, the stranger forcefully making Kira splay her legs wide.

Kira panted through her nostrils as the woman continued the kiss, curling against Kira’s petrified tongue, seeking to bring it to life with such tenderness. She could not believe this was happening; she had to be dreaming.

Against reason she let her tongue emerge, stretching out to meet the intruder. They coiled upon one another, slippery and eager to play. She shivered as the stranger ran her tip across her lips, tickling the skin before slipping back in, probing deep.

The hand started to slip lower, releasing breast and migrating, making Kira’s breath quicken with every second that passed of its voyage until she was panting frantically. Clawed fingers hooked the base of her skirt and started to haul up, raising the curtain of fabric to expose her panties. The same hand began to sneak under the front, stealthily entering and then letting a fingertip brush her clitoris. She was already damp with desire, the flames of a long-forsaken libido suddenly erupting into volcanic fervour.

17

The finger began to circle and tickle, caressing the tender bud. Kira almost swooned from rapture, her body breaking into a cavorting fit, the woman staying atop her body as though it were a bucking bronco ride.

Manipulating her loins, her legs held wide by the demanding boots of the stranger, pinned down and subjected to a passionate kiss, Kira surrendered herself in full, melting with prurient desire.

The hands left their captives and the woman sat up, arching her back, her breasts straining against the taut fabric, making Kira’s eyes burn with wonderment.

‘Who… who are you?’ she whispered, licking her lips, the taste of another person’s saliva strong upon her palette.

‘No more than a figment of your imagination, Kira,’

she purred, her voice silken, an enticing delicate sound with a hidden core of darkness to it.

The hands of the woman closed into the front of her shirt. There was a brief pause where her eyes met Kira’s and kept a momentary exchange, then with a wrench she tore it open, sending the small buttons dancing across the bed. Reaching back in, she took the folds of her bra and broke the centre, allowing her to peel back the soft satin fabric and expose Kira’s breasts in full.

‘A luscious sight indeed, but not quite ripe,’ she uttered, almost to herself, yet with her stark gaze fixed to her subject. ‘Not yet, but soon.’

Abashed worry crept into Kira’s mind and she moved to try and cover herself, unused to being put on display for others. But the hands of the woman flashed out and captured her wrists once more, stopping her in her task.

Kira’s breath froze, afraid that this encounter was to become a violent one, but the woman merely grinned 18

her wicked grin and transferred Kira’s hands to her own rubber coated mounds.

Kira felt the smooth fabric pass beneath her palms, the woman moving Kira’s hands in circles across the delicious assets. It felt wonderful; it was a vision of awe that had her devoting herself to more substantial play, to indulge this encounter to its fullest extent. Dream or not, a charm had been laid upon her and she was helpless to resist.

The woman let Kira feel her hardening nipples lurking within the basque, and then slowly drew the young hands down her sides, following her contours until they cleared her hips. The latex gave way to soft flesh, the skin cool, almost cold to the touch. It enforced that this was a dream, for no normal person had such a body temperature.

Kira felt the firm buttocks, squeezing the skin, her own loins moist with complete intoxication.

‘That’s it, go on,’ crooned the woman, as though Kira were a student who had finally succeeded in learning an elusive lesson.

The woman released Kira, letting her continue as she wished, running a hand around and across the latex of her stomach, holding to a breast as she sought to fill her senses with the physique of the stranger.

Her enigmatic partner leaned back, presenting an open plate for Kira’s hands to dine upon, her taloned hands peeling back the obstructing cloth of her underwear.

Letting one set of fingers explore Kira and tickle her clitoris, the other captured a sheen of moisture and used it to steal entry into her rear. A finger kissed the puckered opening and started to slither in, causing Kira to gasp at the alien sensation, the woman probing in and out, circling as Kira sobbed with rapture. The steady 19

stimulation of rear and sex had Kira throwing her head from side to side, striving to endure such intensity while also seeking to try and keep her eyes on the portrait of beauty before her. She was determined not to miss a second of it, not even to blink, for to do so might dispel the dream.

Kira’s hands were wild and random, groping and fondling with passion, the smooth panes of midnight fixating her fingers, the scent of the rubber sifting through her nose.

The woman lifted up and started to shuffle back, removing herself from Kira’s stomach and instead settling between her splayed thighs. A moment of hesitation struck and Kira tried to close her lewd pose, only to have firm hands slap to her thighs and keep them there.

Looking up from her reclining position, Kira saw the woman lowering her head, an iniquitous smirk ruling her features. Kira could see what was going to happen, her breath once more breaking into chaotic fits. ‘Oh God,’

she whispered with trepidation.

A cool tongue burrowed into her loins, taking a flitting kiss of her clitoris that made her jolt, her legs tensing and fighting the restraining hands of the woman. Kira immediately cried out, dropping her arms and taking firm fists of the blanket, hauling at the fabric, every muscle and ligament taut beneath the skin as she shook with bliss.

The cunnilingus had her mind melting with sheer rhapsody, her thoughts scrambled and insensible, everything pushed from her mind and body save this unprecedented bliss. It was as though the woman knew every part of her, knew exactly how and where to achieve the best results, even more so than Kira herself. To label 20

the oral attention as unparalleled would have been an injustice to it, and Kira bit her lip until she feared it might bleed, so pressing was the need to shriek her glory and shake the heavens with it.

Kira’s legs were released and the fingers reached up, tracing light routes up her body until they were once more upon her breasts, tickling them, applying swift pinches to the nipples, the sharp sensation melting into the hedonistic hurricane.