Categories > Original > Romance


by Feybraiha 0 reviews

A story of an affair between girls. The story isn't untitled - the actual title IS "Un-Titled." "As quietly as She could manage, the girl pulled the front door closed..."

Category: Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst, Romance - Published: 2006-04-17 - Updated: 2006-04-17 - 595 words

Un-Titled by Uriel Rebble (12-14-05)

As quietly as She could manage, the girl pulled the front door closed. The click of the latch, with the turn of a key, resounded slight louder than normal due to a recent onslaught of nature's moisture. She stooped momentarily to put on her shoes, which had been neglected in hopes of better avoiding the squeaky board two-thirds down the length of the hall in a small measure of paranoia; the first of many to come in the night. Continuing to her car, She set out for her final destination.

Surging ear-noise blared through even the thickest patches of midnight mist, a last outstanding act of inner moral defiance. It fulfilled the second objective of leaving no room for thoughts as well. The rhythms were calmed where the country roads came to an end and the car parked an absurd distance from where She intended to walk.

Noises of the night drove her brisk strides to a near run, now truly convinced that someone had spotted her.

By the time She reached the house, immaculately large and pristine white, all tears had dried to blend with the fog and a final blanket of resolution had settled upon her shoulder. Any future consequence was now far outweighed by a wild and desperate need. She didn't consciously notice such as she scaled several back fences only to focus more adrenaline-provided energy on forcing open the kitchen window of aforementioned large white house. Shivering delightfully at the warmth of the place, the closing of the window and resting of her second foot was accompanied by the sudden flip of a switch and a burst of unwelcome illumination.

She spun around quickly as she cursed. The source turned out to be a voluptuous being, hair like chocolate, eyes forest green, and an aura that could intimidate most of all strong-willed men. The Woman stood in the hall entry, hand poised on the kitchen light switch. With a knowing, familiar gaze, she studied the girl, paying particular attention to her neck and collarbones, wrists and ankles. From this she gathered the reason for her intruder's company. Striding sensually the distance between them, The Woman uttered low, almost threatening, yet used very few words. The last was a single command, punctuated heavily with a backhanded slap across the girl's face.

This brought her to immediate attention, assuming a more obedient position, body relaxed, head bowed. The pain in her left cheek wasn't pain at all. It felt as though hundreds of thousands of tiny needles had been repeatedly passed through her skin, creating an invisible tattoo of ownership. And tonight, The Woman did not pull her blows - foreshadowing a night not worthy of forgetting. The Woman led her new possession to her bed, managing along the way to fashion a thick, heavy leather collar around the slave's neck. Worship that is unholy. Love that is a disease. Pain that is not pain.

In yet another bed, one already grown cold, a smaller, worn collar lay upon an indented pillow, forsaken along with The Lover who would find it come dawn.

Author's Notes: I might add more chapters later, but it's pretty much stand-alone for now. If I do add more, the rating may go up. I tried to stay away from describing feelings and using dialogue on purpose. This way I get to practice on writing actions and the audience can have more input on what they think is happening and what the characters are feeling. Commenting on your interpretation would really help my writing. Thank you.
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