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Questing4Aldonza -> RE: I'll start the story, then people can add on~ (9/15/2004 4:06:07 PM)
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She leads me into the dark, spacious foyer, her heels clicking on the parquet flooring.
“You look tired and disheveled,” she said, gesturing to the staircase. “The second guestroom on the left has its own bath. Please, refresh yourself and I will have Cook prepare you some nourishment.”
I eagerly climb the winding stairs, hesitantly slipping into the second guestroom on the left. It is elegantly furnished, with the centerpiece of the room its four-poster bed; but as clean as it seems, a faint, dusty, unused smell hangs in the air. Through another door I find a mammoth, clawed-foot tub, and within moments steaming water is filling it and I am eagerly shedding my wet, rumpled clothes.
I soak for what seems like all night, washing away the day’s tension and grime. Time and again my thoughts turn to my mysterious hostess, so beautiful, yet curiously intimidating.
At last, with a sigh, I climb out of the tub and, after a cursory drying, re-enter the bedroom with a towel wrapped around my body. The room has been visited in my absence, and on an end table I find a silver tray set with a piping hot bowl of soup and a glass of wine. I consume both enthusiastically.
I have only just set my spoon aside when I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Glancing up, I see my hostess filling the doorway, staring down at me with an inscrutable expression.
My face begins to burn and I clutch the ends of the towel tightly.
“I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but...” I begin to say, rising to my feet.
But a funny thing happens as I do. Perhaps I stood too quickly, for my head begins to spin and my knees wobble. I try to say something further, but my words slur togther, and I lurch instinctively towards the bed, only just reaching it as my legs fail. The towel falls away as I plummet, face-up, upon the comforter; reduced to staring blankly at the underside of the canopy as my chest heaves. I try to lift my arms, move my legs, but they lay there, useless.
My thoughts are fuzzy, yet my senses seem as acute as ever. It’s almost as if I am watching events unfold from some other vantage point.
I hear a soft, sinister laugh and I feel the keen edge of her fingernails as she runs them over my soft, exposed skin. Her hand drifts between my open thighs and I try to protest, but the only sound that my paralyzed throat can make is a feeble squeak.
“Yesss...” she whispers huskily, as a cold jolt of fear surges throughout my helpless body.
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