The Third Daughter Ch. 02

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“Hi, Sweetheart.” Denise was behind the bar in her gay-friendly pub. “Glen’s a bit tired so I am doing her shift.”

“You’re a softie. Or is she tired because you’ve worn her out?”

Denise gave an enigmatic smile. “Merlot?”

“You know me to well. Has Clemency been in?”

“I haven’t seen her and, boy, she’s noticeable, isn’t she?”

I wasn’t going to argue with her. I’d almost persuaded myself not to come out that evening, but I didn’t seem to be totally in control of my mind. Strange things, the silk handkerchief, my locket, the refilled glass, not forgetting my dreams. Such dreams: they were vivid, erotic and draining. They seemed almost more real than my waking events. Just the thought of that second dream made me wet. The way her tongue, I’d known it was her tongue, invaded me. Christ.

I stayed for two glasses but she didn’t turn up, so I grabbed my coat, said goodbye to Denise, who gave me a sympathy hug, and left. I turned up my collar against the chilly breeze and clattered my way along the dark streets. Rounding a corner, lost in thought I almost bumped into someone. I muttered an apology and walked on. I stopped and turned round, but whoever it had been was gone. I turned again.

“You really should watch where you’re going, Maggie.” Clemency was in a long black cloak. She smiled at me, and swept her hands along her cloak as if modelling it. “I was working, and only just got away.”

“You could have called me.”

“Well, in a way, I did.”

That bloody did it. “OK, I’m done with this woman of mystery shit. You know you didn’t call me in any sort of way. You’re just playing fucking mind games and I’ve had enough.”

“Why did you walk this way?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hardly the obvious way to get to home, is it?”

“How would you know?”

“Am I right?”

Of course she was right. I had no idea, not a clue as to why I had chosen this route. It was probably half a mile longer than the normal way. I wasn’t even sure I knew this street.

“This,” she said, pointing to an arched doorway to one of the elegant Georgian houses in the City, “is my home. Fancy a nightcap?”

“No more mind fuck?”

“I can’t guarantee that,” she said with a smile that was conciliatory. Without further words she walked up the three, well-lit steps to the front door and opened it. I stood for a moment, watching her, and she looked over her shoulder to encourage me to follow.

Had I been expecting some scene from a gothic horror movie, I’d have been disappointed. The hallway was bright and welcoming, the sitting room that she led me into was modern, clean, steel and leather with some softening features, including an open fire that was bright in the subdued lighting. Her hair was loose again, and her eyes black; not the bright blue I had last seen. Definitely contacts.

She helped me out of my coat and threw off the cloak she was wearing and asked me to sit in an armchair while she poured us both a large brandy. My coat and her cloak lay on a sofa in a clumsy embrace. “I was,” she said, “working at a corporate party. Lots of people eating while I astonished them. This,” indicating the same velvet dress she’d worn the first time I met her, “is my costume. Punters expect a little stereotyping.” She placed the glasses on a low table. “Mind if I go and change? I wont be two minutes.

When she reappeared, I almost spilled my drink. “Oh God, that dress.”

“You like it?” It was the white dress she had worn in my dream. The diaphanous material, the shadow of her nipples. She sat in an identical chair facing me, the dress remained resolutely closed.

“It’s, er, beautiful. You are too.” She smiled. “Look, Clemency. I’ve seen that dress before.” I could hear the tremor in my voice.

“Oh, when?”

“This will sound crazy, in fact I am wondering if I am going crazy. I saw it in a dream.”

“I asked you if you’d been dreaming.”

“Well, I have.” I took Betturkey a swig of the brandy. “What is going on? I feel like I’ve lost my sense of reality.”

She moved to sit on the arm of my chair and stroked my hair away from my face. “Don’t be worried. You’re not going mad. Nothing that is happening is supernatural, but it may be super-natural.” She stressed the pause between super and natural. “There are things in nature that are inexplicable, or seem to be.”

I stiffened my resolve. “I want you to explain some things to me, no more bullshit, no more hints and riddles. And if you don’t or wont, I am leaving and I wont see you again.”

Clemency gave a little nod and her hand rested on my bare shoulder. I pushed the hand away but she replaced it firmly. “So, what do you want me to explain?”

“First, the handkerchief. How did it get under my dress?”

“I told you, sleight of hand and it’s true. Check, it’s there again, well, the other leg, I couldn’t reach the left thigh.”

I leapt to my feet, turned my back to her and lifted the skirt of my knee length, black, sparkly dress. Sure enough, there was the square, livid red against my thigh, held by my suspender belt to the skin. I turned, ridiculously still holding the skirt up. “How?” I was almost crying with frustration.

“If I show you, you have to promise to keep my secret. I don’t want to be thrown out of the magic circle.”

“Just bloody tell me.”

She came to me and very gently released my dress from the tense fingers that gripped it and smoothed it down. Her hand almost brushed over my cunt through the dress’s fabric but it was only almost and, anyway the back of her hand. She picked my coat off the sofa and helped me back into it. I cannot, obviously, reveal her secret but, in slow motion, she went through removing my coat, momentarily her hand caught my hair. I’d barely noticed that the first time but this time she was going slower, demonstrating. Then the throw of the coat onto the sofa and, at a critical point, she pinged my suspender belt. I’d been totally unaware her hand was there. The relief was palpable, I felt like I could breathe again. I wasn’t mad, it was just a trick.

One hand on my shoulder, the other hand stayed under my dress, her long fingers stroking the skin just above my stocking. Then it slid up and she said, “I could have put it anywhere, here for example,” she touched the side of my knickers, “but your shorts were too loose. But, I could have put it here,” her finger was inside my knickers, just above my pubic hair, ‘but then again, we’d only just met.” She gently kissed my lips. “Better acquainted now though, aren’t we?”

I pulled away and sat again. “The drink, the one you refilled without me noticing.”

“Sleight of hand is all about distracting the punter’s attention. I’m not going to give away all my secrets but I’ll tell you this, there had always been a third glass full, all I had to do was move yours and replace it with the full one. It was the same with the locket. It’s really very basic conjuring. Any competent magician can do it.” She sat again on the arm of my chair and this time her arm went around my shoulders and pulled me gently to her. She smelt of lemon. Her long hair brushed my face.



“Your eyes changed colour.”

Clemency looked at me with slightly narrowed eyes, then nodded and answered a little distractedly, “Yes, contacts, right.” But her reaction seemed somehow deeper than that, as if she were examining it in her mind.

“My dreams.”

You’ve been dreaming?”

“You bloody know I have, you asked me.” She smiled and caressed my shoulder. “How could I dream about a dress I’ve never seen?”

“Which dress?”

I almost shouted, “The one you’re wearing.”

“You dreamt about me in this dress? Oh, well, that is interesting.” Gently, she turned my face to hers and kissed me.

“You also said something to me, Betturkey Giriş in my dream, well, in one of them.”

“What did I say>”

“You said, ‘You like mystery, you like different, you like fear.'”

Clemency took my hand and pulled me to my feet. Using her hands on my hips, she pulled me to her. The kiss was full on my lips, her tongue tip barely touching but it felt alive. My face between both of her hands, she leaned away and looked into my eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Why should I?”

“The question was do you trust me not should you.”

Well, the truthful answer was, inexplicably, yes, I did. I have no idea why. So I told her, a little reluctantly, that I did.

Her voice was quiet, mellow when she spoke, “Instinct is a powerful thing, more in some than others. You have it.” Before I could say anything, she kissed me again and this time her tongue entered me, and, Jesus, it was that tongue again, delving, deep. I wanted it, I needed it inside me. I felt her hand run down my back and, as it did, it took the zip of my dress with it. Then I could feel her hand on my skin. It was cool, dry and I was neither of those things. Then, she turned, holding my hand and led me up the stairs, her body visible through the gauzy dress and into a dark room, a slight glimmer of light through the gap of curtains. Kissing me again, she eased my dress off me and let it fall to the floor before I stepped out of it. She sat on a bed I could only see as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. She spread her knees and the dress did that opening again and the vision of my dream was made flesh.

Her voice now was, impossibly, quieter than before, almost as if I were hearing it inside my head. “Is this what you saw?” I could only nod, dumbly. And then, oh God, then her eyes turned blue. That blue. You might reasonably expect me to have screamed, or fled, but I did neither. I was rooted to the spot. “Mystery entices you.” I nodded. “Different fascinates you.” I nodded again. “Fear, what does fear do? It makes you wet, doesn’t it? Show me.”

I had no self-control. I knew what I was doing but I couldn’t have stopped myself. I touched the crotch of my silk knickers and they were wet, very wet and my finger became wet too. I held it out to her. She took my hand in both of hers and touched the wet finger, gently guided it to her lips and she tasted me. Her hands moved to my shoulders and, gently, she pushed me down to my knees and, lightly gripping my hair, pulled me towards her. Slowly, I bent forward between her knees, between her thighs, until I was no more than an inch away from her cunt. I could feel her warmth, smell her. Her fingers tightened a little in my hair, not painful, but authoritative and the voice came again from somewhere deep inside me.

“Was it my tongue?” I nodded, knowing that she knew exactly what had happened in my dream. “It was, wasn’t it? It went into you, your mouth, your cunt. Do it to me.”

Of course, I couldn’t. My tongue wasn’t big enough, long enough but she pulled me to her, fast against her and, oh sweet heaven, my tongue did. It did just as hers had done and entered her. Her cunt opened for me, sucked me, pulled me in and it felt like my tongue was being uprooted and travelling, as hers had, deep inside her. It grew as hers had. It curled and moved. I could feel it, swallowed by her, squeezed, drawn deeper and deeper until, just as I had, she screamed and flooded and her fluids ran, copious over me.

“You’re safe now.”

I woke to find myself in her bed, in her arms. My face felt just as my thighs had felt after that, the dream, the drying juices. She stroked my hair as she held me to her naked breast. I felt safe. I felt an amazing calm, peace, as if I’d come home from a dangerous journey. Her fingertips traced my lips, my eyes and she kissed my forehead.

I looked up into her black eyes and started but she held me. “You’re safe now. Stay still.”

Clemency held Betturkey Güncel Giriş me for an age. Then, slowly, she turned me onto my back and kissed my mouth, my chin, down over my breasts, my belly until she was at my cunt and her tongue lapped at me, caressed me. She lifted my knees and her tongue touched my arse, circled and, for a moment, I wondered if her tongue would do there what it had done to my cunt. But this tongue was real, and it slithered back up to my cunt, onward to my clit and it circled and teased it. What did enter my arse was a wet, slippery finger and I had never wanted anything so much before. She was, to my mind, claiming my body, showing me I could deny her nothing. I arched my back and she slipped a finger into my cunt. Those two fingers, long, slender, deft, worked me to a frenzy as her tongue drove me wild. Although I was screaming, I could, ridiculously, hear her voice inside me. ‘Mystery, different, fear.’ My orgasm was frantic, explosive. It was unbearable.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting up in her bed. She had brought me that nightcap she had offered me earlier, the large brandy she had poured what seemed like weeks ago, downstairs. I needed it. I was trembling as if I had hypothermia, but I’ve never felt warmer. The trembling wasn’t fear, or was it? If it was, then I was loving it, revelling in it.

She’d changed into a black nightdress. It was flimsy and fell off one shoulder so her breast was exposed and looked as if it were cradled by the fabric. I was naked, my knickers and stockings gone although I had no recollection of her undressing me.

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is happening to me?”

“I’d say you’ve just had the best sex of your life.”

There was no denying that. The strange thing was that I felt I could do it all night, I was possessed with energy, a stark, sexual, erotic energy that made every cell of my body alive, desperate for more of her. At the same time, I was exhausted, shattered.

“Your eyes.” I’d suddenly remembered how they had changed colour. “It wasn’t contacts, was it?”

“It’s perception, Maggie. Your mind changes and you see things differently and, well, you like different, don’t you? Look at me.” I looked at her, her eyes black again, her hair seemed to shimmer. Suddenly, she took one of my fingers between hers. She held my gaze and her thumb began to caress the palm of my hand. “Do you want me, inside you, deep inside you?” Her lips weren’t moving. “How deep can I get inside you, Maggie? How deep will you let me in?”

My mind should have been screaming, “Stop, stop, stop!” but all it could say was that, yes, I wanted her deep inside me, as deep as she could be.

She was smiling a gentle, comforting smile. And then, oh fuck, I swear her tongue tip showed again at her lips and I felt it enter my mouth again, just as it had in that dream. It stayed just at my lips, her eyes, now almost imperceptibly changing to blue again. Her tongue, it was HER tongue, moved, circled, opening my mouth as it swelled and it went agonisingly slowly deeper and deeper, just as it had before. Then the madness got worse because as her tongue filled my mouth, so I felt it curling between my thighs. Her eyes, bright blue, brighter than ever before and it was in me, not deep, nowhere as deep as the tongue in my mouth but it was there, working its way in as it swelled and hardened.

Just as I thought I could take no more, I felt another at my arse. Wet, warm, hard, it massaged my hole and a voice deep in my head said, “Relax, let me in, this is what you want, what you need. Let me in. It’s up to you, you’re safe, let me in.” The pressure increased and penetrated me, pushing, filling me. All three tongues worked, finding a rhythm, fucking me, slowly at first in a unison of penetration, then the pace increased. I know I was moaning, begging, and I could hear the words but how? How could I speak?

If the previous orgasms had been breathtaking, this, these maybe, were too much. I felt as if I were levitating and, by then, it wouldn’t have totally surprised me if I had. I heard someone scream using my voice, heard it explode from my mouth but all I could see was her eyes; brighter than ever, incandescent.


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