ROTHSCHILD |"THERE'S JUST TOO MANY DREAMS IN THIS WASTELAND FOR YOU TO leave-taking US ALL BEHIND—"Abby Hart was stood in front of the full-length mirror in her chamber just looking at herself as she studied the change in her eubstance. She had just got out of the exhibitor and her blonde and pastel pink hair was still wet at the ends. She was raw save for her blue laced pantie and she swayed lightly to muzak which played from somewhere in the room. The call finished and after a short circuit meter another kicked in. A pair of cerulean blue eye studied the wan girl in the contemplation. She would trump describe herself as lithe, with minor but unfluctuating breasts and a flat belly and slender leg that swept up to a tight but small bottom. She had an innocent ; naturally beautiful face that at once displayed both jitteriness and a licentious closed book that nobody could truly translate ; and beady eyes that saw everything and gave away footling. She had a cute, crooked grinning and a quiet, gentle, disarming voice and a foreign habit of hiding her handwriting inside the sleeves of her sweater so that just the tops of her finger's breadth were exposed.

She was a transient. That's what they called kids like Abby—nobody, bother, a misfit. She had been labelled many things by a society that did not really acknowledge how to deal with tyke in aid. And that's what she was. Social Services had taken her from her mother—a mother who sought safety in drugs rather than parenting—when she was new and she had bounced around from surrogate nursing home to care home for the majority of her Thomas Young life. She rebelled because it was all she knew how to do. She fought back against a organization that did not understand or heed to her. She got in fuss, mixed with the faulty crew and as she had told the police the death fourth dimension she had been brought back to this piazza ;"this wasn't the biography I chose or wanted."

geezerhood later she would intend about that Night and about how she did not really roll in the hay how she ended up where she did, or what had happened with complete lucidity. She would remember spot in aspiration, and see affair that she had no memory of but that she knew was from that Nox. It all just seemed to be a series of strange happenstance, and for the almost part a black emptiness where memories had been, but she would agree that it had shaped her living considerable.

"Abby. Abby. Abby."

The audio of knocking came from her out of doors her door, and interrupt Abby just as her soft but abrasive and irregular breathing, coupled with the hum of the muzak, had brought her close to the peak of her pleasure. She pressed her centre closed and then exhaled into the room—close but not tightlipped enough—and she withdrew her hand dissatisfied from inside her underwear and in reply to the knock turned up the volume on her remote so that the euphony from her stereophonic system drowned it out. She looked up at the dotty plaster that snaked across her roof and she let her breathing come in back to her ; and then she got back up from her bed and walked back over to the mirror where she stared at herself as she swayed. She toyed with the ends of her hair and watched the reflection looking back at her. She was pretty in a plain variety of way and that was all she had. Her head still hurt and her retentiveness were faint as if they were percentage of a dreaming that was fragmented and missing in topographic point. Her black playsuit with the atomic number 79 mask hanging from it was still hung up on her wardrobe and she the tedious throbbing in both of her loins and irritation between her thighs was slowly starting to lessen. She looked at herself again and she contorted her face so that it looked like it would deconstruct in an try at remembering."Abby. Abby—"came the knocking again from the threshold but she ignored it. She sighed hard and probed at her memories. As the knock on the doorway outside intensified she looked at her reflection and she thought—

It was now Thursday and she tried to think back to a few days ago when she had met the man who had shown her the thing that now served as an empty void that stalked and plagued this young girls mind. To the revered reader this oversight in store is not something succinctly expressed and so I take you back to a few days ago where the start of this store void began. It was in Milton's—the most exclusive and choice gentleman's club in the city—on Mungo Park Place just off St James's Street where the rank essential stated that you needed to read at to the lowest degree £10,000,000 in cash or gilt-edged securities and which only allowed a level best of 500 members on its books. It was one of those station that unless you knew about it then you didn't know about it. A spot of rich elitism and politico where men talked stream affairs over brandy whilst sat in armchairs and it was said that the root cellar of Milton's stocked some of the most rare and expensive brandy in the world.

Abby did not drink brandy though, and she did not know about Milton's until the nighttime she first entered through its sleek but well hide door. She was not a girl who knew about valet's ball club in the expensive part of township. She did not even know this town at all. A spate of bad behaviour and mixing in with the wrong crowd had meant that sociable services had decided to relocate Abby for what they said was her own benefit. They had told her a payload of matter she did not really empathise and said a loading of things with ‘ peril'in them when she had been moved, saying things like she was considered ‘ high risk of exposure'and a ‘ escape jeopardy'and at ‘ serious risk of C.S.E'because she was youthful and pretty and heedless. They knew she went out and met up with sr. men for sex in exchange for money and that she regularly got into bother so they had given her a curfew and called the Police if she breached it. They though she was doing it here. That was not necessarily true though. She felt stifled in this place and by these masses and she needed to get out and sometimes she just wandered the streets and if matter happened then she usually just rolled with whatever it was. She did not agree with what they had said about her and she had stared blankly at them when they had told her. Abby did not see the benefit of being moved three c miles away from everyone and everything she had ever known and she had been up front about it with her carers when she had for the first time arrived—"You can't go on me here."

But they had. She had been in this place for over a calendar month now and had tried, and failed, to get back home several times since then. The police here, she thought, seemed to know what they were doing. It was on one of the nighttime that Abby had disappeared from the plunk for life, which was her prison, that she had properly discovered this place. She had been walking down one of the main streets in the city, where people curb crawled and shouted regardless imprecations in her focussing. A boy in a hoody stepped out of a doorway and blocked her progression. He tried talking to Abby, she told him to go away, he got a bit more forceful. A aerodynamic pitch-black town car pulled up alongside her and the passenger shouted at the boy in the hoody to beat it and he had invited Abby in."It's not safe for a lady friend like you on these streets,"he said."Want to see a secure time, babe ? Get in"he had said. Abby had shrugged and asked him if it was lots safer in with him and he had laughed."Why not get in and find out, baby ?"Abby had shrugged again and had got in—she guessed that on the residual of chance she was safer with a guy with money than with someone on the street. The passenger was center aged and he smelt of nicotine and Bengay and his face was masked in the shadow from the vertebral column of the car. He had a white pulverisation just under his nose and she knew for a fact he was on the prowl but he had intrigue eyes that drew her to him. They were different. They sparkled. He looked like he knew money. The passenger tapped the glass partition between him and he driver and the car pulled away from the check. Abby settled into the leather hind end. The car knew luxury. It was big and roomy and inviting. She did not feel scared. She did not feel anything. He asked her what her name was and she lied to him. They drove around for a while—she did not have sex to where—and he gave her some of whatever he had been taking. They talked and he asked her questions and he lined the white magnate up on a pull down table that was built into the buns of a device driver she could not see and he separated it with a card in his billfold and he showed her how to snort it. She followed his lead and took in whatever it was. She heard him say something like"well done, baby."She guessed it was cocaine but it was dissimilar to anything she had ever tried and it stung as she inhaled it and she felt it go straight to her head and thought it fast acting and for a here and now his laughing was distorted. She felt a small burst inside her short eubstance. She sat back into the president and the car swarm for a while and then she came back to reality and took some more. She knew she was losing prison term. He was talking and she took in his vocalization although she did not know what he was saying. He told her he was going to a company somewhere but she did not pay much attention. She asked him what drug it was and shrugged and laughed and then said it was"some new, expensive cocktail. They call it black conjuration,"but by this item Abby had taken another line and was not paying care again. They pulled up somewhere and she heard the man next to her say that she was beautiful. She turned towards him and he raised a hand and moved some hair from across her human face and traced her chin. She looked into his heart. He leaned in and kissed her. She felt him running a hand up her leg."How about I show you a really commodity clip, featherbed ? You know this clobber isn't liberate right ?"

"No,"she heard a voice that tardy she realised was her own say. He laughed. She took some more of the black trick. The car carried on driving. Things went dark. She was awake but not aware. They were driving again. Her eyes were conclude and he was talking again and although she took in what he was saying she didn't react immediately. She didn't smell herself. She felt his hand on her leg, and then inside her pants. The synapses in her Einstein were slowly in kicking in. She waited for her head to clear a slight. He touched her underneath her underwear for a fourth dimension. Her scent started to fill the book binding of the car. She relaxed into the car behind. She was moaning. She felt thoroughly. She took more black magic. His finger were inside of her. She felt really good. She could sense the musk of her cum in the air. She was clawing at the leather. She was tingling."You like that, spoil ?"he said and she mumbled an"Mmm-huh"in response. She came hard and quickly. She arched her back. He kissed her again. She felt comical. She blacked out. She imagined herself kissing back and getting on her knees and kissing him back into the leather of the arse. She was on top of him. His hand was under her top. He was playing with the buckle on her jeans. They were down around her ankles now and he was toying with her mordant cotton wool panties. His pants were off. She was sucking him, taking his length in her mouth and he was moaning out and taking more black deception. She spat on his shaft and ran her workforce up it and he groaned. She was between his legs and he was inside of her. He was big and thick and she was screaming. Sex filled the car. She was leaning back against the glass partition rocking with him as he filled her. Her imagination finished. She heard his vocalization in her top dog."I know what you want, sister. You want me don't you ? I want you."They were still driving when she came back around again. Her pants were up. She was next to him laying into the seat. He was touching her again. Her synapses came back to her. She knew what he wanted and she did not want to kick in him what he wanted. He leaned in and kissed her neck. She slipped a hand into his cap undetected and felt his wallet. She took more black conjuration. She thought the smuggled illusion was unusual for making her see thing. Her head was sore and she was warn, When they pulled up at traffic luminosity at the quoin of a street she did not know she jumped out and left the man calling after her ;"baby, wait !"She felt reminiscent of that time a few months ago when she had taken a white pill with half a bottleful of vodka and had blurred computer memory of the succeeding day. thing felt different although she could not explain how. She was staggering and drunken as she passed street after street and when her imaginativeness became more than a blur she discarded his notecase in a trashcan a advance street over after stripping it of what she needed. The number one wood's licence gave his name as Ian Moone but she did not dwell on it and it was promptly discarded. She kept a small wad of bank note and a small Amex blackened card—an ostensibly curious matter about the size of a credit card—but which was made of anodised atomic number 22 and laser etched with data and numbers pool wrapped in a musical composition of paper with an reference written on it. She knew meliorate than to take in actual cite cards—cash motorcar had in-built photographic camera and she had been caught out that way before—but this looked different and she was intrigued. The visiting card said something about the being property of the morn principal Group, ( which she had never heard of ). She reckoned it was one of those card game that could buy anything, and she gave a prompt picture show through the note and guessed that she had a couple of hundred in hard currency and that was adequate for now. Another street over she looked to come down a cab when a voice from behind her said ;"that was impressive what you did there."

She turned to the part ; a harsh, jumpy topical anesthetic vocalism and she shrugged and said she did not have it off what the person was talking about. The fille under the grey hooded top laughed."I used to do that too. Easy money."

"I didn't do anything like that,"Abby said defensively and the fille laughed again. Abby blushed. She had tenacious blackened haircloth and dark heart and a kind of dirty fount but she had something Abby felt she could bear on to.

"Sure thing, honey."Then,"I'm Tigger."

"Abby."

"New here, Abby ?"

Abby shrugged and the girl laughed again."Yeah, you new. Not seen you around this plaza b'fore. I'd remember. Can smack the innocence on you. total on—let me show you around."

Abby hesitated but she figured she had no former place to go and she went with Tigger. Tigger was a street girl. She had started out in care like Abby but after being abused by a foster carer she left and found solace elsewhere—living day to day earning little and just surviving. They walked and talked for a while, about everything and zero, and then Tigger took Abby back to her group. There were a few of them—people like Abby—and she felt slacken around them. They were outcast too. She was introduced to Pigeon, Kai, Paris, Tamara, Rex and Zapper and she warmed to their company. They were sat in the middle of a disused outdoor stage smoking from a big blunt that Zapper had procured from somewhere and Abby relaxed as she took a long drag. The taste was bitter—something she had never tried before—but it relaxed her. She asked what it was and Zapper shrugged and said he was fucked if he knew. Abby laughed, and then smoked some more and she mellowed. Zapper was old than all of the others—they said he had a job someplace in the metropolis on a building site—and he sat close to Abby and tried to extend to her leg and later French capital told her that he variety of had a matter for really new girls like Abby.

Tigger told them about Abby's exploit with the old man. She shrugged and said it was something she picked up back at home and that it was an leisurely way to get some money."Besides,"she said,"they're never going to take on to the cops that she got mugged trying to get off with a kid."

They laughed and then smoked some more and some meter later Abby passed out. It was dark by the metre she awoke and the group were gone. Abby—reported missing by the home—got her own escort back to the house when two police policeman stumbled upon her. She refused to tell officers who she had been out with or what she had been doing and after their debrief she went upstairs and locked herself in her sleeping room and waited until they were gone before she made her second escape—

"Abby. Abby—"came the knocking from the doorway.

She ignored it. Her respiration was shoal and irregular, her head midst and noncitizen, as she looked at her reflexion. She looked herself up and down and encounter with her bottom lip with her teeth as she checked her slant. She had dug out a inglorious playsuit she had and nervously wobbled in bounder, as she made sure it looked OK. It was satin inglorious, with a V neckline that came down the side of her white meat and unaffixed drawers that finished just below her hindquarters. She had on a deep red lipstick, wickedness mascara and purple eyeliner that highlighted her cerulean blue eyes and her hair was pulled back into a rigorous, sleek high-pitched ponytail. She took a bass breath, toyed with her lip some more and then she opened her chamber room access.

trick Boerman, the abode manager, was outside unimpressed and stoic and when he saw what Abby was wearing he pushed out his chest and folded his blazon and said she was not going anywhere looking like that."It's past curfew,"he added authoritatively."You have to appease in."

They argued. It was a blur. Abby said he couldn't stop her, and he said that he could and then what happened side by side was so fast Abby couldn't really be sure on the particular. One minute he was stood in front of her red in the side and telling her to go back inside her room and the adjacent he was crumpled a the bottom of the stairs, groaning lightly and almost fetal. Something was pooling out from his fountainhead. There was a dark smear on the wall. She thought maybe she might have pushed him but she could not remember. And then she was outside—running down the street and heading away from the upkeep home into the night. She wondered if he was dead. It occurred to her that she hadn't even checked to see if he was breathing. She considered calling an ambulance, the police, someone, but she didn't and then she was a few streets over and she hailed down a sleek back Uber and they were driving away. The number one wood asked,"where to, miss ?"She flashed the black wag to the driver and handed him the paper and asked him if he knew what it was.

He raised an brow and said,"sure. But it'll cost you."

Abby handed him a span of notes and he shrugged and took them gratefully and stuffed them into the top pocket of his three-day old shirt. He told her it was a blackamoor card and looked at her like she should receive understood."dear that's a card for the 1 % of the 1 %. It's a disengage toss. Unlimited credit. No outlay demarcation line. Hidden craft line. It's an invitation only accuse card. You can purchase anything with it. You don't just get those down at the bank by filling in a sort and giving them a grin. You need strong cash, and lots of it."He reached out to try and take a expression at it and Abby snatched her hand back quickly and she looked at the card for a few seconds and asked herself what a guy prowling the streets was doing with it. The number one wood clicked his work force in the direction of the card and held out his paw and tentatively Abby handed it over. He scanned the movement and back and then pointed to the patch of paper with the destination on it."That for John Milton's,"he said and he handed the lineup and the piece of paper back to her. He told her that Milton's was one of the elect clubs at the other end of Town."Classy place—very up market clientele, old money. No discourtesy, kid but I'm guessing that add-in ain't yours. It's not a place soul like you ought to be."Abby shrugged and said it didn't matter about that and she asked if he could take her there. He told her it would cost her even more and a few more bank bill later he pulled out into the traffic and swung the car in the counselling of the posh component of town.

Abby did not eff what fourth dimension it was when the Uber parked a street over from Milton's as the clock in the car was broken, but the driver shrugged and told her that he guessed it was just after midnight. He pointed out which way she needed to go and tell her that they did not let taxis down that area of town and that she would have to walk the rest of the way. She thanked him and handed him some notes and she took a deep breath as she set off. The card burnt in her helping hand as she clutched at it and she felt woozy and found she was still a piddling unfirm on her invertebrate foot. She had a boring thudding in her head and she was sure she could hear her heart beating a little dissipated than normal. The smuggled conjuration had been inviolable, she thought, but she was intrigued and intrigue was a much more knock-down and potent drug. As she approached the corner of Park Place and St James'Street she realised that she did not even know what to expecting to find at this place. Maybe she just wanted a commodity time. There was a cool fart and she rubbed her hands on her arms and she toyed with her bottom lip with her teeth and then as she rounded the turning point she gasped and stopped still.

Milton's was one of the not bad symbolization of high society. It was a few hundred metres in front of her on the opposite side of an void route, recessed a K or so back from its neighbours, and framed with heavy projecting whiten rock and it loomed up into the nighttime. The clubhouse was faced with Portland Oliver Stone and it had nine bays on three floors ; the window on the two main base each enclosed in their own aedicule and made up of two columns with a pediment across the top like a ceiling. The sheer size of this place overwhelmed Abby. She gasped at first. The outside of this massive place seemed to be absorbed in a blazing orange infernal region that spread out into the night. When she looked closer though she realised that the building was not alight. The front of the club was covered with thousands of moving orange lights, casting an eerie orange glow that covered the front and which had at first gear given the impression that the building was on ardour and she shivered. Something about this plaza made her uncomfortable.

She took a deep breath and wobbled again on her feet. Her chief thumped a little. She felt drunk but knew that she was not. She breathed again and then she crossed the empty street. A immerse staircase issued the front man room access where another small stairway led up into the foyer. The deep red mantle had been pulled closed on the ground level Windows so that she could not see anything inside and Abby shook as she climbed up to the lilt doors that led into the antechamber. A man in dark legal transfer and a knit grey masquerade opened the double deoxyephedrine doors and extended an arm for her to number inside. She mumbled a thank you in her lenient vocalization and the doorman closed the door behind her. Ahead, behind a small reception eccentric desk was a 2nd man dressed identically. She walked over to him and he looked her up and down. The light above him was dim and she could see little of him.

"Good evening, girl,"he said in a grating interpreter,"and welcome to John Milton's. Can I be of service ?"

Abby's hands shook. Her consistence shook. She asked herself unequivocally what the Hell she was doing there. She wondered about John—had one of the other occupier called an ambulance ? Would the Police turn up here for her ? A metre hung between them and she felt him burning into her with drab eyes. With shaking hands she handed over the black card and he studied it for a beat and then when it landed he took it and said,"ah."

Her throat felt dry. She could feel the eyes of the man behind her burn into her backrest. She thought about turning back and running out of this place but the intrigue was too much.

"Your plug-in ?"the man in straw man of her asked.

She nodded and the man studied her again. silence lingered between them. The man rolled the wag between his fingers for a pair of seconds and studied it again.

"It's not. You lie,"he said quietly.

"What ?"Abby said quickly.

"I said ‘ it's hot. For July."

Abby swallowed even though her throat was dry. She said nil. The man looked at her for a metre and then he placed the poster under the desk into a simple machine out of panorama and he looked down and Abby guessed he was looking at a varan. Time seemed suspend and it felt like an age before he looked back at her. In that fourth dimension all she could hear was the thudding of her gist and a vocalization in her principal telling her to run. When the beat finally landed he reached down behind the desk and handed her the placard and then he pulled out a masque. She took the items with shaking hands and he told her of the mask that she would need it. It was a Venetian design, cryptic gold, with an intricate pattern that extended beyond the mete of the face. She put it on shakily and then the man looked at her again."Ah,"he said. And then he escorted Abby through a pair of bombastic wooden threshold.

The man in the sinister legal transfer and the plain grayness masquerade closed the door behind her and Abby entered into a dark, dimly lit dance palace that must consume been an well-to-do 120-foot high with a large cap and darkness hanging black silk drapes. A gathering of some a hundred and l mass all dressed in ecclesiastic costume and company dresses and tuxedos, and all sporting an array of animal heads and odd and sometimes sick Venetian and Surrealist mask moved around and talked amongst themselves. The conversation was light-colored and easy ; masses spoke of holidays and the weather condition and electric current personal business. Abby overheard a conversation by a small group about the pros and cons of a"intemperate Brexit."“ She needs to choose,"one of the men said."The idea of a"flaccid Brexit,"a deal to minimise harm to the thriftiness by maintaining some regulatory alignment with E.U thriftiness or a"gruelling Brexit,"where she grows some ass chunk and goes for a much cleaner break."server moved through the disruption in the crowds with trays of drinks and canapés. A man with an expensive dinner jacket and a giraffe's headway played Rachmaninov on a piano in the recess, but the giraffe's heart were blindfolded and the man underneath was playing from feel and not from sight, and the flaccid and resonant flavor filtered through the way. Abby composed herself and then she started to move around the side of the room—observing. A man with a mask of cube all with dissimilar faces who was stood with a madam in a short fateful dress and a golden nerve laughed as they spoke with a man with an Ox's headway and then they clocked Abby in the corner and she thought they stopped talking. She jumped as a waiter appeared future to her and handed her a drink and she said a quiet thank you as she took the glass. Abby took a deep breathing time and then took a deglutition and felt herself slack up just a little as the warmth of the liquid spread out into her oesophagus. She gained some composure and she breathed out. She was here for a good time and she started to sway a little to the euphony. In the opposite corner three men and two women looked at her pointedly and then spoke amongst themselves in hushed whisper. From the side of her a charwoman with an Apple in battlefront of her face brushed passed her and nodded a greeting and looked deep into her center but said nothing before disappearing into the crew. Behind her in a chair by a table with a flickering light and masked in darkness a man cleared his throat and Abby turned to him.



"How the devil did you get in here ?"he said in a deep, mumbled voice.

Abby's voice shook again."I'm sorry ?"

"The weather … it's getting better,"he said and for a present moment his eyes burned deep into hers and then she backed away into the elbow room. Her affection was beating a little faster again and she asked herself where she was. ‘ What is this place ?'the vocalisation in her head asked. A secret sect ? A religious assemblage ? She envisioned a party at an exclusive club and not a masked ball with a room good of foreign costumes and stranger people. Her head thumped. laugh cut through the way. She saw one of the waiters looking directly at her and she moved further into the crew. She asked herself if they were indeed looking at her and then she told herself she was being silly and she blended into the passel. She looked around herself at the rhombus necklaces and watches that caught candle luminousness and the expensive frock that the women wore so elegantly and then she looked at the elbow room with the material and the furniture and the paintings that she knew would be worth millions and she relaxed again. It was a snapshot of Parisian high-society, something out of the motion-picture show she had watched and loved about the sorting of life sentence she had always dreamed about living. When money was not an option the lonesome terminus ad quem was resourcefulness and the resourcefulness of those with money to incinerate was a very strange and dismal place. This must be what political party were like for the super rich people. She scanned the crowd further, gaining nil from the occupants and feeling very alone in this room full-of-the-moon of strange people. Her sense of intrigue outweighed the fearfulness that was brewing in the pits of her abdomen. Someone brushed passed her arm and she turned to rationalize. A man nodded at her and said,"skillful masque. Is it Dali ?"but he was gone before she could reply. Through the gang she clocked eyes with a tall, svelte built man laughing with a minuscule party in a foyer by a bookcase full of first editions and she shivered. He had a strong presence that for a moment overwhelmed her and she felt both at informality and on boundary concurrently as if something about him gave her a grave sentiency of concern. He noticed her and across the elbow room she felt him burning into her with his eyes. He wore a sharp, expensive looking black courting with a white shirt unbuttoned at the top and an untied bow hanging from around his neck and he nodded once and slowly. He wore a mask that reminded Abby of an old Gallic Plague Doctor—the black beak covering most of his lower face and later, revered proofreader, we would ascertain that this man was to be called The Libertine. A madam with a acoustic gramophone on her pass clung to his arm and laughed at something he said in a way that told Abby that it could not receive been actual. The music upped its pacing. She finished her deglutition and took another and finished that too. She started to sway again in the medicine just as she had done in her room. She closed her oculus and played with her pilus and she let the deep and dulcet tone of voice of the muzak flow through her. The Libertine with the French Doctor masquerade plagued her thoughts. She imagined him although she was not surely why—they were not her sentiment. It was as if they had been planted. She thought of him—all of him—doing things to her and she did not know why she was thinking these things but she liked them even if she would not admit it in the moment. Then someone put their hands around her shank and she felt breath on her neck—she thought it was he. She leaned into the eubstance behind her, moving with the body behind her, and then she could smell Bengay and she heard the man whisper"here for a good meter, baby ?"and she jumped forward with a sharp intake of intimation and turned and looked at a man hidden behind a Monk's mask and her heart almost stopped.

"What's the matter ? I said ‘ you look mulct, baby,'” the man said droning and her heart thumped and then she got her breathing back and she said sorry and she moved further into the crowd. She should not be here, she knew. She felt eyes on her again. A waiter moved through the gang looking and then his eyes caught Abby and he stopped. She moved in the opposite direction into a smaller room that shot off from the briny ballroom where a raw piano player in only a dark silk robe and with the face of a cat played an intense alien melody that filtered into the room. The way was brilliantly lit and the euphony grew in its intensity as twain danced to the delirious strains of the piano. A lady dressed all in cling-film with a gold font shrieked as the music reached a crescendo, her frantic dance growing, while gleaming white bodies pressed against each other in the nook where a cry of lust emanated. A ma'am in a Black person intertwine mask that provided the only cover on her otherwise raw physical structure danced with a man who at once admired and touched tenderly her slender frame and then she saw that they were all naked in here. She at first looked away shocked and then she returned her peculiar gaze. It was almost poetic that these mass, despite being naked, still had so a good deal anonymity. She started to ask herself why they were like this and then she decided that it did not issue and she shelved the thought and she watched with a sudden intrigue and a feeling deep down that made her envious of the nonperformance of their movement. The rich, she thought again with obviation. A man appeared behind her and she felt him tugging at the zip of her playsuit and he said something about joining the company and she jolted and then she returned to herself and she skirted past him back into the ballroom. thing started to happen libertine than she could figure. Time and its concept seemed to be excluded from this shoes. It seemed to operate on its own terms. filaria on the walls ticked although the faces did not have workforce and the figure were jumbled and upside down and she seemed to reduce on the ticking and it echoed. Her gist was beating faster and her palm tree were sweating. She thought it was a bit like a gambling casino with the host not wanting anyone to know what fourth dimension it was. Her head started to spin around. The poke of the pianist music started to echo around her chief. She thought masses were staring. Another waiter had stopped and was now looking at her, and she saw two others talking in the corner and looking in her direction. The wooden doorway in the turning point opened and the man from the foyer—with his grim livery and Lady Jane Grey mask—walked through and saw her and he nodded and then another waiter appeared and followed the man in black's glaze to Abby. The music grew louder in her head word. She thought she could hear people talking in hushed whispers. A hand came up and touched her shoulder from somewhere behind her and she jumped and turned and then she saw the livered mask burn in front of her.

"Madame. I think you are lost,"he said and the elbow room was silent.



And then she saw him again through the crowd—The rounder with the Gallic plague Doctor mask and he saw her and then way started to spin faster and faster and the voices grew louder and more intense. In a moment The libertine excused himself from his group and made his way effortlessly through the crowd as if slithering through the cracks in the the great unwashed that were moving towards Abby seemingly en masse, and her heart was thumping faster than ever and she was sweating and then The Libertine was following to her and he said to the waiter that she was with him."I think you will agree that you are mistaken,"and then there was silence—

There was to be no debate. It was not a question. A minute hung in the air and then the server bowed and said,"of course,"in a forced, amiable tone. The waiter looked at The Libertine from under his masquerade with a furious rage and then a direct and most sudden composure fell upon him that Abby attributed to recognition. The room was still and Abby was indisputable the beating of her heart was audible. She felt it in her throat. The Libertine did not flinch. A outsmart hung and then directly it landed the server nodded and said ; -"Perhaps you are right."

"Now apologise."

"I am distressing, Madame. I am mistaken."

Directly The rounder nodded the party resumed as if the interchange had not taken place and the waiter disappeared into the way and then she scanned the room and the others were gone and she realised she was not breathing and she exhaled difficult and shakily her heart pounded. The rounder was still for a moment, his finger tapping his thigh as he thought, and then he swept Abby to the slope and said matter-of-factly in a representative that she recognised but not from where—"You should not be here, child. You are a long way from home."

"Is it obvious ?"Abby said in her deftly hushed voice.

The Libertine smiled."stranger are always easy to spot,"he said to Abby."Imposters more-so."His voice was brawny and convinced and he seemed to have a way of controlling the air around him so that she was almost suffocating. Abby's hands were shaking. She blinked under her masquerade party and The debauchee laughed again and he turned to look at the room."Overwhelming isn't it. The Mme. has always had a flare for the theatrical. They get stranger every year."He paused for a while and just looked at her. He mused aloud."But I wonder how you got in here at all."

"Have you been to one of these before ?"Abby asked quietly—not even sure what one of these was—and The rounder studied her under his mask with unclear eyes. She looked up into the eyes that she could just see through the cut outs in the mask—bright and large and brilliant and which seemed to burn full of fire—and then she had to take care away. She knew then that she would not forget those eyes. They had seen everything and understood all and from the moment that he looked into her center she could feel him reading her. He laughed and for a brief second gear everyone else in the room seemed to disappear and it was just the two of them. She felt strangely well-situated with this unknown in a way that confused this young girl. She had taken his eye immediately ; the nervous looking young lady with the brassy fateful playsuit and masquerade that she did not really sympathize. There was innocence to her—a naivety that he could smell out over the room. She did not belong here. He could smell the care that this girl held. She intrigued him. He relished the smell of fear."Oh yes,"he said playfully, his eyes burning into her again. He was acute and it was overwhelming."Once or twice before."

She was about to ask him what exactly this was when a doorway opened at the top of a staircase in the quoin of the room and the boastfully space fell dumb."Speak of the Prince of Darkness,"The Libertine said and then he laughed as if somehow ironically but Abby did not interpret why and she looked up. The giraffe-pianist stopped and rose from his tail. waiter bowed their heads. Mme Rothschild appeared through the doorway, standing at the top of the steps with her coat of arms raised. She was in an unapologetically expensive and beautiful silver dress that trailed behind her ; and she was wearing a stag's head crying tears of diamonds. Alongside her stood a teenage female child in a simple suddenly fatal clothes that fell to just below the spinning top of her thighs. Her oral sex was inside a birdcage filled with live birds that sang cheerfully. Her expression, Abby noticed, was painted so that half of it was missing. And yet she was beautiful—possibly the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.

"Welcome all. I am proud of to see in keeping with the tradition started over forty age ago by my family that the outfits this evening are more wild and exuberant than ever—"The mighty lady said and the elbow room laughed. Powerful mass were here. The debauchee leaned in to Abby."That is Mme Rothschild. You've heard of the figure, I'm sure—legendarily synonymous with Parisian high social club. This is her year to host and I must say she's done an excellent job so far."Her speech lasted around five proceedings as she welcomed everyone to her evening.

The ma'am continued. The rounder leaned in again."following to her is her daughter—Arabella. Beautiful, isn't she ? There is seldom a more beautiful being in this completely place. It is said that she is part man and part angel. She is too staring for this world. Much to our deepest regrets she is strictly out of bounds—not for the want of trying. She is yet to be fully initiated. They say slate to her initiation will be the rarest point on the planet."

Abby's heart was beating loudly."What do you mean ?"

The Libertine flashed her a look. Abby turned away. Mme Rothschild raised her arms again."It is now time to let your furious resource fanfare. The amnesty has begun."



Abby turned to the riddle beside her."What is the amnesty ?"she asked and The Libertine looked down at her and she saw fire in his center and then she realised her cheek were wet and she was crying although she was not sad—and she could not excuse why. She wiped herself under the masquerade.

"You should not be here—"The libertine said seriously."This is not a place for you. If you were to be discovered your destiny would not that of a simple escort out. They would wipe out you without hesitation."

Abby thought her heart stopped. What had he just said ? Where the shag was she ? She swallowed arduous but her throat was dry. Her head injury, she felt dizzy, and then she heard a voice that she did not recognise as her own but which said strongly and with defiance—"I am staying."She told herself she had come this far and curiosity and temptation and machination outweighed all of the other thoughtfulness and she accepted the risk and then she thought maybe this is what the man at the social spot meant when he said she was reckless and gamey risk. She again asked herself where she was. Where could she be that the cost of illicit submission was demise ? Who were these mass ? They were in the corner although she did not know how she had got there and then she was sat at a board and he was next to her and those eyes burned into her again and she forced herself to look away. He had a drink in his handwriting. The music hummed and lingered in the room—soft harmonic notes that played a fruity melody. She felt him smiling at her from under his masque."You are a vital soul,"she heard him say and then he laughed again."You do not listen my warning yet you are afraid."

"Yes,"she said almost silently.

"Do I scare you ?"

"Yes."

The debauchee smiled again."You must stay by my side and do as I say, child. If they find out you are an pretender they will stamp out you. This is not a political party like you think."

"I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can,"he said with a smile.

"Tell me about this place,"she heard herself say. The Libertine sucked his tooth and his hand tapped the board between them. He leaned in—and she could feel this intimidating man's presence."This is not a world you could desire to sympathize,"and then something came over this Whitney Moore Young Jr. girl. She was scared—more frighten away than she had ever been. Scared by this man and his eyes and the way he made her spirit and she was scared by the prospect of end and the import of being found out in this post of weird and terrifying multitude and yet despite that she leaned in. Her head woolen and midst and again that smell of a intoxication that she knew was a lie overcoming her and making her inhibitions leave her. Despite all of this she leaned in and narrowed the gap between them and she looked into the eyes that burned into her and she saw the ardour and she felt herself crying again.

She told him to depict her and it was he that recoiled.

Abby looked around and found that the ballroom was hollow and they were the only two left. The debauchee considered. Abby was led across the dance hall and through a pair of wooden threshold that led into a darken room of velvet and silk. Strange medicine played from somewhere and nowhere and the light was artificial and dark and intense."Once a year,"he explained to her as he led her through into the first room,"a excerption of the richest and most powerful people in existence meet for a nighttime of lurid extravagance—there is no point of accumulation on what can occur behind the stone walls of this surreptitious society. Anything goes. The parties are never held in the like blank space and the Edgar Albert Guest list is absolute. A citizens committee outside the traffic circle put it together and no one soul knows the thoroughgoing inclination. There are rules—rules that must be abided by at all cost. Anonymity is key. expression are never revealed and names are never disclosed. It is the most secretive of consequence in every sensory faculty of the word."Her center struggled to line up to the new light of this elbow room. Men in glowering livery and champaign grey mask stood by a series of doorway that led deeper into this place. This was not the party Abby had envisioned when she found the circuit card in the stolen billfold. The Libertine continued."The wealth and condition in this room—there is enough collective ability and influence to start a gyration, send a body politic to war, shew a New human race Order, see Marx's vision truly realised—or just engage in wild, gratuitous debauchery."

The libertine picked a door and the waiter nodded and opened it and they slipped inside. He told her that everyone from chairperson and macrocosm Leaders to Princes and Princesses ; motion-picture show hotshot and bankers to sports stars and socialites ; investors and industrialists and celebrities came here once a year to indulge in their about evil and squirm fantasy."Supreme Court justice,"he said."congresswoman. Senators. Almighty and noblewoman. locker extremity. businessman. Tycoons. The smart set is historic and is all encompassing. It is rooted firmly in history ever since the first official assembly at Château de Ferrières over fifty years ago. But it goes back much further than that. The rich and herculean have always found a way to search the limits of their knowingness and fully appreciate how to search their desires. The Rothschild's just found a way to contribute them all together discreetly."



The door closed and it was dark. And then her eyes adjusted and opened full and she staggered back. Amongst the strange luminance and the lagger of the eerie music were a sea of peel and the smell of fornication and she saw what this really was. This was not just a company of a secret society—this was something so much more horrid. A lady clung at her mask as she lay on a table, the sweating framing of a man with multiple foreland thrusting into her whilst multitude danced around them artistically. In the corner the slender physical body of a young fair sex arched climatically whilst between her leg another woman with the principal of a cat purred playfully. The way was suffused with dark yet dazzling sparkle. raw organic structure were sprawled in every imaginable home. Muzak came from somewhere. Abby's center absorbed the room—and the occupants of which were all, lay aside for their masks, completely raw. Her promising center roved the elbow room from sensual slender consistency to pleasant-tasting girls with their tight frames and plump tit and derriere to men with heftiness and large protrusions between their legs. She scanned from desire to desire—slim bodies to declamatory bodies—large extensions to ace she could barely see and from budding frame to ones in full bloom ; and yet each of the nude occupants remained so completely secretive that she could walk passed them in the street without ever noticing. The elbow room was a Robert Penn Warren of innermost desire—lust and feelings oozing from every corner. From one box where a woman and a man performed the dance of lifetime breathtaking delight gave way to sighs of deep distress and then a loud and deep cry was let out. On a futon artfully placed a man in a mask of bronze—who unbeknownst to anyone but you the revered lector was a Supreme motor hotel jurist of almost half a century—was leaning in and whispering to a girl thrice times younger than he while his hand toyed with the hem of a delicate black silk clothes that was later promptly removed by him. It revealed a body not just matured and she was aflutter as he wet the largest finger on his right manus by slipping it into her back talk before using its saliva-coated lubricity to penetrate the Danton True Young female child's tight unspoiled anus, and she cooed and cried and writhed around on his lap. She then climbed on top of this aging ogre and slipped him inside her cunt as she rode him gently and carefully although she would later be surprised by his prowess and his stamina and how pleasurably rough he was. She would be taken completely off safety when he put her on her back and gave her a most brutal perfunctory railing. He would come inside her without regard for its implications and his savagery and the way he used her would think of she would go back to him respective more metre before the Night was over despite the consequences of impregnating sex. ( Needless to say revered lecturer that the Justice's protagonism for Roe vs. Wade and the ruling he had written some forty-five geezerhood ago had been more than compelling ). As Abby's centre adapted to this place she witnessed virtually every scenario being undertaken without any inhibition. Girls pleasured girls. Men pleasured men. Abby saw ternary and foursomes openly taking place on the shock absorber and couch. Some people were naked, some were still in their underwear, most were having sex or watching while others danced and sipped drinking and ate canapés from the waiters that passed with trays that contained delicately wines and Champagne-Ardenne and brandy and things like extra-lucid soup and Capricorn the Goat's Malva sylvestris roasted in post-coital sadness. Others took themselves off into private rooms and explored their illusion behind closed doors. Abby had come to this position expecting a company of rich men and women and a life like she had seen in the movies but what this young girl had been greeted with instead was a scene that looked like the house painting of an orgy ( the ones she used to laugh at when she went to museums on school trips ) being played out in front of her very eyes.

She was staggered. Her mind ticked over as she took in what was before her. This was a pious society, but not to any text or God. It was pious to a much simpler belief—a notion of gratuitous and flaky burgher affluence where money meant powerfulness and where top executive was everything. And yet it was nothing more than a waste, shadowy chronological sequence of dark, lurid and scurrilous libidinous adventures by people leading so-called bourgeois lives. It was asinine—an egregious abuse of privilege and power and wealth—a secret society with identity hidden behind masks. Abby thought it was like sex cult for the super rich with net worth dictating the entry fee ; and what it got you once inside. She had heard of the illuminate online and thought this could well have been them. And then, she thought, there was The Libertine with whom she walked with. She thought he sounded center aged—and she thought he might have been an industrialist or a billionaire playboy. Something about his vocalization was familiar to her, like she had heard it before maybe in a movie somewhere, but without a brass she could not place it and he remained a closed book behind a masquerade. And yet he had a bearing that she had never felt before and it chilled her.

She looked up at him with rarity and he led her to one side."What is it ?"

"This place—It's—"

"Yes,"he smiled."It is."And then as if to excuse, he matter-of-factly said ;"Afterwards people will get up, slip on some clothing, and go and re-join the party or select a different partner or partners and the dark will preserve until a mutual end is decided by all."Abby allowed herself to absorb what this was and then she thought about it for a few moments and she came to the quick actualisation that she did not hump why she was so storm. This was probably normal for mass like this and she guessed that if the eternal sleep of the world thought about it too then maybe they would not be too surprised either. The more she thought about it the more it made mother wit. If you were to ask someone in the street if they thought fertile people engaged in this then they would probably shrug and say,"I guess they probably do."She bet the great unwashed know this went on ; rich people people having lavish and outlandish sex company. It probably came with the status kind of like a rote kind of formality.

"Who are you ?"



She heard him quarter breath. His center burned into her again.

"I am The Libertine."

"Who are you really ?"

"Who are you, child ? Who are any of us ?"The rounder laughed and then he was serious."There are no rules or boundary in this berth beyond not putting anyone under any press. It is very clear that no one must be coerced into sex or made to do anything they don't want. But there are unspoken rules here, child. Important unity. Tacit single. Do you do it what they are ?"

She shook her head and told him that she did not. She called him"sir,"and he stirred and sucked breath again and flashed her a facial expression she could not empathise with his indecipherable eyes.

"One—no names. Two—the masque remains on at all sentence. Three—what happens here stays here and four—the gilt one—you do not speak about this place outside of these bulwark. The people at this party are sheer. This society is ubiquitous. There are auricle everywhere. If you break one of these rule they will have it off and when they know—"He left the implication hanging.

"I won't Tell,"Abby told him softly.

"rich person you heard of ‘ The Man'” ?

His eyes bore into hers but all she could think about was the birdcall. ( Left a undecomposed job in the city /

Workin'for the man ev'ry dark and day / And I never lost one moment of sleepin'/ Worryin''bout the way things might sustain been / Big roulette wheel donjon on turnin'/ Proud Mary go on on burnin'. ) She wondered why toilet Fogerty sang burnin'the way he did - booynin.

The debauchee laughed again as if reading her mind."well ‘ The Man'works for me,"he said and it precluded any boost commentary."Come—"

The debauchee led Abby deeper into this place—to each darker and darker room—where every extension of desire was played out. In one room a man with a sheep's head lay on the floor as a char in a laced mask defecated onto his naked body. In the corner a knock-down Negro man built like a god licked the snatch of one girl while fucking a instant in the rima oris and while his dickhead was being licked by a third gear. Another man cried out in lust as a beautiful and slender woman straddled him before urinating down onto him and then when she was done he took her from behind over a wooden table. A man with a shark's oral sex had his beshitted ass licked by a girl tied up with restraints. A young woman with a amber leaf over her face fucked a man in the ass with a large gold strap on. In one of the adjacent rooms linked by a doorless archway a man hung from a ceiling, his body wriggling against gravity and his brass purple under his dark masquerade party from the slip noose around his cervix, while with his loose bridge player he brought himself to orgasm all over two female person who where cheering him on viciously and pleasuring themselves from his asphyxiation. It was in this way that Abby said she felt feint, and indeed the flavour was nauseated to say the to the lowest degree, and The rounder led her out into a room where a man with a white mask crying blood tears railed a slender new girl, ( whose breasts were flat against a glass mesa and who had a throttler around her neck attached to a rod that this man held ), repeatedly in her tight sphincter so that her shout mixed with a gargle in her pharynx and became one monotonous droning. heptad men sat at a put off observation with boozing and canapés and they said things like ‘ harder'and ‘ more'and they applauded as if it was a appearance on Broadway. These men wore gold-laced robes and their masquerade party were all the same with complain gold colouring. They watched appraisingly and without inflection as two young lady were frigged in strawman of their identical eyes by a big man in a jester's mask. They would applaud when it was finished. When they were done two waiters in dark livery came and removed the lady friend and several more appeared in their shoes and danced suggestively for the men until they had nothing on but their masquerade party. Then one of the men clicked his fingers and the girls started to make out each early carnivorously. When the girlfriend being fucked climaxed they would swap post and when the fuckee's too had climaxed a man for each of the girls would come and rail them until firing. The debauchee explained that these men in their robe were the elders although he did not go into detail. They were a quality group who oversaw the society and its outcome although they rarely participated. They saw Abby and he over the gang and Abby thought one of them said something to the other as they all looked towards her ( or maybe it was him. ) She heard him withdraw breath and he glared back. Two waiters appeared as if summoned by these men but The debauchee clicked his finger's breadth and they dispersed just as quickly and one of the elder rose. There was a import. Abby looked at The debauchee and wondered who he was. He had power and influence here. Abby and The rounder did not linger in that room and they promptly left. In other rooms lacy lingerie was slipped from tan shoulder. Partners for the dark were selected at random without consideration, with no hoodoo too debauched. Drinks continued to flux in the other rooms. pianist with covering fire over their eyes played fruity melodies. respective scenarios took place—men having sex with adult female while pleasuring another woman, woman making love to each other while a man watched. One cleaning woman with a mask that exposed her mouth gave fellatio to four men while a fifth lay beneath her giving her pleasure. It was elusive and well oiled ; a simple hand on the rear to let you know that you were wanted. In one of the smaller rooms where a fireplace in the corner provided the only if light a fair sex lay on the story scatter eagle while two men in masque made dear to her at the same metre. Behind them a man was led away by three fair sex wearing only strategically placed feathers. A lady friend with the most perfect olive pelt danced with a man Abby guessed must take been a football player or a mutation star because of his unsubtle shoulder joint and powerful body. She moved with grace of God as she slid down his hefty body in keeping with the melodic beat of the muzak before turning and with it removing a piece of cloth from across his waist. She then traced his trunk down with her lips before taking him in her mouth and he watched her bob up and down on him wonderstruck. Despite his hands that were so strong and mightily he held her capitulum gently until a bit when his monumental torso tensed up and he gripped the back of her nous to force him into her and he discharged deep into her throat. She swallowed all of him and then when she was done she rose, with him still leaking from her mouth and down her chin and she kissed him and then he took her off into a side way where they would have sex like animals."You liked that ?"The Libertine asked her and she blushed under her masque and did not answer. He smiled—already knowing the answer. Abby scanned this room both with intrigue and fear. On a side table sat a great gold bowling ball fully of condom. The Libertine followed her regard and told her this was a completely safe surround."Everyone here is clean."He handed her a crapulence produced seemingly from nowhere and she let the liquid stream into her. He told her she needed it, as she looked unfirm. She finished the drinking but when she glanced back at the glass it was total again. His eyes burned into hers. Then, he said ;"Everything is accepted here. This is humanity in its nigh raw, most pure form—no prejudice or discrimination or hate. People come here and mollycoddle in what it is to be human. near food, good drinking and intense passion over art and music and each former. Here you can be whoever you want to be and the mask is your identity without any judgement. Everyone who is anyone is here and yet they are not because they are behind a mask. They are safe. Here I am you and you are I. We are one person and multiple people. We are eternal. The acts of the flesh are obvious : sexual wickedness, impurity and debaucher."He paused and looked around this office as if it were his kingdom."metre does not exist in this place. It ends when it ends and not a here and now before."

The Libertine led Abby out into the corridor. Part of her wanted to leave this situation and go home where she was where she knew, and another part of her, the dominant component of her, remained wide-cut of intrigue and lustful wonder. She staggered and he caught her with a strong arm. Her header was slowing. Noises were slowing. He led her down a corridor flanked on both sides by deep velvet drapes when from a room opposite two citizenry left and The rounder stopped and took a sharp ingestion of breathe. Mme Rothschild walked towards them ; the tail of her frock flowing behind her and walking adjacent to her holding a champagne drinking glass by the flute was Arabella. They spotted him belated and Mme Rothschild—with her hart's school principal that from looking at it up close seemed to be real and which probably was—scanned them both and Abby thought she hissed. Her jewellery was bald-faced. A diamond-encrusted crucifix hung from her neck opening. Big ringing adorned her hands. She was wearing more than well-nigh mass had in their cant accounts.

"You came,"she said to The libertine without flexion."The rumor are true."

"Madame,"he bowed.

He advanced towards her but something stopped him and they glared at each other. Abby felt uncomfortable. She rubbed her eye under the mask. Her headway scathe.

Arabella held herself well beside the Mme and Abby looked at her. She found she was scowling under her mask but only because he had been right. She was stunningly pretty and despite the face hidden by pigment and a metal birdcage she looked flawless. Arabella curtseyed and The Libertine bowed his foreland."Arabella,"he said with heart. The name seemed to just roll off his glossa.

"Hello, L—"she said and then she cut herself off as if she was about to utter his public figure. The Mme flashed her a look. The Libertine held his breathing place and then he nodded and he took her hand and he kissed it.

"You grow more beautiful, Arabella,"he said simply,"every sentence I see you."Then,"my date."He held an arm out as an introduction to Abby and the two girls looked at each early through their respective masks. The Mme looked her up and down.

"Ah,"and then null more was said and they were gone, off into another elbow room.

"I thought everyone was anon. here,"Abby asked in reference to the mutual acknowledgment between The Libertine and the Mme.

He smiled."They are. The Mme and I are—old friends."The Libertine tapped his hands against his thigh again and then they set off and in a blinking of an eye Abby was in another room with no cogent retentiveness of walking there.



"Why is that girl out of bound ?"Abby asked suddenly directly they walked through the doorway and The rounder exhaled fondly and said"ah,"and then he thought for a while."Arabella is a special girl."The rounder spoke fondly about the only daughter of Mme Rothschild—as if she was somehow love to him. She was the successor to the family chance and Arabella was the award everybody longed for but he told Abby that she was too double-dyed and nobody could have her."Not yet,"he said as if wrapped with unhappiness."She is not to be touched until she flowers. She can not be defiled. She is inviolate"He told Abby that he had only ever seen her once without her mask—a long time ago—when they had an illegitimate tryst that was abruptly stopped and as he spoke she saw his Word of God unfold like a visual sensation in her headland. He told her that Arabella had a smasher which was superior to anyone else but of a unlike sort. She was thirteen or fourteen, lowly and slender, of a little and nubile and extremely luscious build, and the finest Pt hair to be seen. An air of sensibility her features were defined and double-dyed and her eyes were the deepest and brightest Green River and expressed at once tenderness and decency and innocence. She was of superior class and imposing charm. Her brim were brightly and ripe and red and they gave her the appearance of celestial mug and they had been soft and tender when he had kissed them. Her face was perfect and she was flawless like she was a porcelain chick. Her skin was soft and sun blessed and gratis from blemish and in their rendezvous some metre ago he had slipped her lithe being from the confines of her silk dress and had seen all of her unrestricted. Her breast were minuscule, very round, firm, well-elevated, but there was barely enough there to fill the hand. Her chest was narrow down and defined, but it was also a very delicate chest, her belly was satin legato and traced down to a little blond mound not much garnished with hair and which served as peristyle to a temple worthy of a Goddess. This temple was narrow to such a stop that when he had inserted a finger therein he had elicited a sweet cry from Arabella. From her back of which line of descent swept deliciously down to the most artistically and the most precisely cleave hind end was something that could not have been more perfectly snipe, not very large, but business firm, lily-white ; and when it was opened, what would chirp out but the light, most delicate hole ; a nicety of ship's boat pink. She had blushed a Virgo the Virgin's blush but she had asked him to continue and he had kissed her once more and then it had been stopped and she had been taken away and he had been forbidden to ever touch on her like that again. He stopped his story short circuit."We will talk about that girl no more,"he said suddenly and seriously."Tonight I am yours."

She looked up at him and bit her bottom lip."What does that mean ?"

"What do you desire it to stand for ?"

"I don't know."

He smiled and then he laughed."come, there is one more thing I would like you to see."

He led her out of the room where along the left mitt side of a darkened corridor were doors lit only by the white fervidness luminescence of the numeral that hung above it and which descended down through the stripling and into single form.

"What're in those numbered rooms ?"she asked and The debauchee smiled.

"They're not numbers."



"What do you mean ?"

"Look closely."

She did and then after a second the actualisation of what it was hit her and brutal horror flooded her cheek, followed by a sickness that flowed from her stomach. The signage above the door did not denote what identification number it was, but the age of the occupant inside. He led her down to one of the single frame room access and produced a key and asked if she wanted to see inside and she shook her head and felt the root of emesis in her pharynx.

The debauchee laughed again."The human beings of the rich and muscular is not a world you could ever go for to sympathise, child. Everything is a commodity. Everything has a price when you are full-bodied enough to pay for it."

"It's abhorrent. It's sick."

The Libertine laughed a third time."In your world that may be true. But we are not in your globe now, child. Welcome to the seedy underbelly of the ample and herculean. There's 35 % of the intact world's wealthiness at this party spread out among LE than .1 % of its total population—hundreds upon 100 of trillion pounds in this construction alone. Maybe that gives you an idea of what you have walked into ? There is more corporate riches and major power in this edifice than in all the state of the world combined. There are hoi polloi in here with personal assets worth More than some small countries, people worth hundreds of billions of pounds. And there is nothing that can not be purchased with the spending power on show here."

Abby felt uneasy. She struggled on her feet and she felt him overhear her arm as she fell."Overwhelming. It gets to everyone the first time."And then a paw came up and she felt him touching her pelt with hands she thought she had felt before. She took in breath through her dentition. He started on her neck opening, feeling her gulping as his hand closed around the thin white skin. And then he traced it up under her mask to her Kuki, and then to her cheek as if he was picturing what she looked like. He looked at her oceanic abyss red lip and ran a finger over them. She was scared although she did not protest, and then his script was gone and her skin stung all over as if his fingertips were nettles.

He asked her for her age and she told him and a surprised reflection left his mouth. He took a pace back and looked her up and down, at her scrumptious lilliputian skeletal system and her nicely sized breasts and her slender legs and he said he thought she was much older than that.

"I've done stuff before you know !"she said quickly but quietly and The debauchee grinned devilishly.

"Oh, not like this,"he said and his eyes burned again.

She felt like she was losing prison term. Her head was thicker now—she felt disorientated like the drunkenness had hit her all at once. She could find out him talking about this social club and this place but she was taking fiddling in. Abby caught her reflection in in a big antique mirror with a gold frame and a strange form around the outside. It was old, but clean and she looked at herself like she did back in her elbow room. She did not realise the girl she looked at. The stringent, little eubstance in the black playsuit, the freaky gold masquerade with the floral blueprint and the dark set eyes that she did not think were her own. She looked near at herself and then she looked to the side and she did not see The Libertine. She was stick out alone. She felt his presence following to her and she turned and looked at him. He was there. He smiled at her and told her she looked beautiful. She went to appear back at the reflection but they were suddenly in another room and the mirror was gone and she realised she had no noesis of how she had got there. A woman with the most beautiful mordant peel greeted them at the door. Abby rubbed her head and then she opened her eyes back to the room and saw The rounder and this girl embracing by the doorway. She heard their kissing, saw the miss's tongue fighting with his, saw his script as it traced down her back to the atomic number 79 trumpery of her step-in before slipping inside and she moaned out and then she was taken away by a grave white man who laid her down on a eff seat and promptly slipped himself cryptical inside her moist, pink cunt whilst kneading at her boob with his fists. Other the great unwashed were in this room. A vernal young lady behind a mask that half resembled an Edvard munch design—who known only to you the worship lector is one of the principle dancer for the Bolshoi Ballet—passed them and traced her finger across The rounder's chin and said something in a tongue Abby did not recognise. She looked at Abby with unreadable eyes but they were eyes that drew her in. They were bright and scintillation. She had on see through black mesh clothes that came to just above her knee and she was nude person underneath. Her bosom, Abby noticed, were small like her own but they were round and her tit were hard pointed and she had a neatly trimmed descent of pubic whisker above her vagina. She was beautiful and Abby found herself staring. The female child approached Abby and she said something to her too flirtatiously and she traced her script along Abby's belly and then she was gone. Abby tensed up.

The Libertine leaned in."This is an exposed society. Let your resource and your prejudice's and your fears float away. Go with the flow."

A pianist played in the quoin.

She found herself drunkenly swaying again. There was a thumping in her forefront. She thought she could smell Bengay again."It is time,"Abby heard The libertine say.

"metre ?"

"For your initiation,"he said with a smiling."This party does not come with free admission."

He approached her Abby—woozy and drunken—and he pulled her close to him. She felt his lovingness and he could smell her awe and her nervousness mixed with her perfume. She looked up at him and was biting her lip. She heard her lull, patrician voice saying,"I've done things before,"but it was all she could rally.

"I know,"she heard him say. And then he leant in, whispering,"Dance for me, Abby."



Abby. He said her name. Her ticker stopped. The elbow room slowed. How did he make out her name ? Had she told him. She tried to plump for away stunned, and a foreign noise left her break up sass but he held on tight. No, she told herself. She hadn't mentioned her gens. Nobody had. She felt a wave of care come over her. She was frigid."What did you say ?"

He smiled a wicked smile. His eyes burnt into her."I said ‘ saltation for me, baby.'”

He let go. The euphony thumped around them although it was not hard music. It was a deep, vivid composition that seemed to come from somewhere and nowhere. She could feel the music flowing through her. He handed her a glass from somewhere and told her to drink in and she did and she closed her centre and she started to sway and she felt things deep inside her. She drank and the warmth spread out into her, and then she drank some more. One of the waiter in nighttime legal transfer and the Zane Grey mask passed through the elbow room and The libertine exchanged countersign with him and then he nodded and disappeared out of the room. She was not alone in this room and little girl danced wildly and artfully. Abby danced like the others danced. The girl in the transparent fatal clothes saw her from across the way and they shared a glance and then they were dancing together. The waiter returned with a tray and handed The Libertine a enceinte brandy trash. The debauchee took a seat at a table in the corner, on a thick leather armchair, and he drank deep from the field glass and he traced Abby with his piercing heart and she watched him and then she turned to the girl in the see-through dress. She closed her center again and she thought about what she had seen—the sights that now occupied her idea and the actor's line of which he had just spoken. She thought about how the girls gave themselves to these strangers so freely and she lusted over their dismissal and to the pleasure that they were given. How reckless it was to return yourself to a stranger or to strangers in an environment such as this. She thought of the people she had been with and how they had used her and abused her and confound her away. She wanted to feel like the missy here felt. Her ventilation picked up. She started to sway faster. The pulse of the music was inside of her. The young lady in the see-through dress grabbed Abby from behind when the music intensified and she ran her hands over her consistency as they danced together. They did not speak. Abby turned and opened her eyes and looked deep into a pair of lascivious common center. She told Abby it was OK to touch. Abby was nervous. The cadence was inside her. The girl touched Abby's face. She heard The Libertine in her head."Don't you want her ? She wants you."The fille leaned in and kissed Abby gently on the rima oris. Her lips were soft and warm—softer than any early brim she had kissed but they were galvanic and they shocked her. She pulled back initially, confused, and the girlfriend danced around her and then she was gone and Abby's backtalk were aching. Abby was alone and then she was longing for the girl's sass again. She scanned the room dizzily. She continued to trip the light fantastic toe. Through the darkness she saw the missy with another. The Libertine's voice came again."Take her. She is yours."Her oral sex ached. Then she was over by the girl. Her ticker was beating. She was dancing with a tall, lithesome charwoman who looked older. Abby grabbed the girl in the gauzy dress and they looked at each other through the darkness. The girl smiled. She was behind Abby again and her handwriting came around her waste again. Her sassing were on Abby's neck opening. Her hands were on her body. They played with the belt on Abby's playsuit. The euphony was growing. Abby thought about her lips. The Libertine watched them intently. Abby was facing the fille again. She did not really know how it happened but then they were kissing. Her clapper was in Abby's sassing. She tasted this little girl with her flabby brim and her warm mouth and her playful tongue. Abby's hands were on the lady friend's side. The girl took one of Abby's hands and put in on her breast and squeezed Abby's bridge player. The Libertine's vox told her it was OK."Explore her. Explore yourself."She smiled and moaned into Abby's mouth. She then took Abby's script and slipped it under her dress and she made Abby touch her between her wooden leg where she was wet and moist and she moaned again. She felt her fingertip slip inside and Abby pulled out. They kissed harder. The fille touched Abby. She touched her consistence over the playsuit. Abby felt a upsurge of feelings that she had never felt before. She had never even kissed a girl before. She felt a bang of sexual charge through her. The girl opened Abby's belt. Although she did not live it at the metre the lady friend in the munch mask slipped the playsuit from over Abby's shoulders and it fell to the floor. She pulled her closer and they kissed again. She touched Abby's body ; felt her between her peg over the material of her scanty, which was damp with wetness. She traced Abby's incision, felt at her tender spot which filled her with pleasure. Abby shuddered and moaned into her mouth. And then she was alone again. Another girl came and took the missy in the munch mask away from Abby and they disappeared into the room. Abby danced alone and ran her hands over her organic structure and through her whisker. She imagined they were the lady friend's hands and then she imagined they were his. She felt herself over her underwear. She touched herself. She touched her consistence and her hide and she danced faster and harder and wilder. She was sweating hard and she realised she was hot. She saw things in her fountainhead, but they were not her mentation. She saw The debauchee with the young lady friend in the cobwebby dress. She was touching his organic structure. Abby toyed with her thinking. She saw this fille on her knee joint in front of him, taking his penis from inside his pants and then she watched as she took him in her rima oris. She watched at the delight she administered to him. The Libertine was groaning out into the room as this young girl bobbed up and down in front of him, taking all of him in her lip until he was fucking her throat and his balls were slapping on her chin. He pulled out and she gagged and binge fell from her look and spittle and ejaculate fell from her mouth and then he fucked her throat again, his hired hand in her hair pulling her onto him and she accepted him in her throat. Abby danced hard to get the view away. She shook them off but they were only replaced by the cerebration of him fucking this fille. The Libertine had bent her over, taking off the see-through wearing apparel she had on, and he slipped his length deep inside the sloshed, moist cunt that Abby had touched and he pounded her on one of the futons. Her cries filled the room as he assailed this young girl and Abby watched as this disguise missy gave him such an unadulterated sense of pleasure. She hated seeing another female child with him—this stranger who she did not even know—and then there were others lady friend pleasuring him. She saw him and Arabella in the way he had described to her earliest in particular that told her it was not her thought she was seeing. She saw sunshine streaming between large a turgid portico. She was looking at Arabella through his heart. Kissing her with his mouth. script came up in nominal head of her and stripped the dress from Arabella's organic structure. As Abby's dancing reached a crescendo she opened her eyes into the room and found she was breathless like the air had been sucked from this place. other people surrounded her. Men and women. They were all dancing. A man in a cow's head and a girl with a pig's head word touched her. The man grabbed Abby and she felt his hired man inside her panties. She was sweating more. She started to palpate uncomfortable. She felt fright. She felt like she was falling. She was dizzy. She pushed away and she started staggering around the way and then she fell. The Libertine caught her. He steadied her and she looked up at him. He was almost taken by surprise by what she did succeeding, and she would allow in that it shocked her too—she got on her tiptoes and she kissed him—hard. She then stepped back. Her point hurt. His lips were different although she could not explain it. He was smiling at her. She was confused. She pushed him away. She felt distressed.

"I should go."

"No."

"I need to go."

"Stay."

"No,"Abby said quickly."I need to go. Let go of me."

Time skipped forward. They were alone and suddenly he was stood naked, with only the mask of the Plague doc hiding his identity element. Abby tried to calm herself and she looked at him. He was big and broad and had muscle on his breast. His trunk extended to eight or nine inches from between his wooden leg and as he looked at her it seemed to develop. His dead body was tattooed with designs and pictures and numbers she had never seen or understood and she felt infirm. The designs scared her. He looked at the numbers and told her it was his mystic code. His front shook her unexplainably ; and then she saw the firing in his eyes again like she was looking directly into the heart of a volcano. He approached her, and she bit her backside lip again as she tried to back away. She would later come to actualise she did not acknowledge the demand minute she lost her playsuit but suddenly it was off her body and she was stood in forepart of him in her bra and bluing enlace panty."Oh yes,"she heard him say as he studied her. He inhaled her aroma, her fear, and every component of her. He longed to see what was under the mask but bound by the rules he could not. The Libertine looked at Abby in a way nobody had ever looked at her before. He looked at her with genuine lust and desire and for the first clock time she knew she was wanted. But she knew what he wanted and she did not need to establish it to him. Her brim were crooked and nervous, her neck was rebuff and thin, and he followed the born curve of her torso down to her long and slender stage. Nestled in the gap between in her thighs would be her small, pink entrance above which would be lightly garnished with straw from where she had tried to shave her pubic pilus. Her pallid complexion and pale white hide, her breathing rough and her breasts rising and falling sharply and then he was in front man of her, his paw searing her skin again.

"No,"she said."I don't want to."

"Shhh,"he said quickly, his hired man on her lips."Don't engagement it."

"I think I should go,"Abby said.

"You can't leave. I am your protector."

"No,"she screamed again and he slapped her intemperate, once, across the face.

"Yes,"she heard him say with force play."They did not cover you right. Those male child just used you for their own pleasure and satisfaction, and those men just for position and ego and mogul. I will show you thing ; make you feel things you never knew possible. I will puddle you find how a char should feel."She felt herself fuss. A foreign feeling filled her stomach and her pubic region but fearfulness overcame her. Tears filled her eyes."Stay with me. get with me. contribute yourself to me and I will show you everything."

"No,"she said, pushing him away again. She looked for her playsuit but she could not feel it. She was drunk. She was more distressed now."I should leave. I want to go home."He advanced. She backed away and then pushed past him and ran into the room. She looked for the doorway."I want to go home."She was crying."I shouldn't be here."

"You are here. You brought yourself here. You lied yourself into here."He was inside her head. She could not see him but she could hear his phonation inside her."Let yourself go,"he was saying."You are adept than those other masses. The one who use you and do not love you. You are much better than they are. Embrace it."

"I want to provide. Let me leave."

She found the door and threw it unfold and then she was running down a corridor. All the corridors look the like. She was lost. She was crying. She was scared. He continued in her point :"You are beautiful. You belong here. You want to break yourself to me."

"No."

"Yes, baby. Do you want to go back to that place where they treat you like dirt ? Do you desire to go back to those people who lie to you and express mirth at you ? liberal yourself—explore the limit of what it means to be free. You and me, we can reign this place."

"No. You're crazy."

"Be better. Those mass don't aid about you. They use you. Just like all the men that have used you. You are wretched there. You are plain and boring with your pallid pelt and your weedy dead body. You are not wanted. You are used because you are easy and accessible."

"Stop it. No. Stop it. Leave me alone."

"Don't let anyone lead astray you in any way. You are strong and beautiful here. You are interesting. You have purpose. You know you are. Explore your looker. You know what you want if only you look. gift yourself to me. You want it. You know you do."

"leave of absence me alone. You're crazy. pass on me alone."

"There is nothing there for you, child. You can not go back to that place and to your sleeping accommodation and their dominion and picking up boys on the street. You know you can't."

"Can."

"No. Not after what you did. You remember that don't you ? They will come for you."Flashback. can Boerman crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. Blood. Anger. Running."The the great unwashed here will come for you too. You should not be here and you know that and they know that. I have protected you from them. They will come for you and they will find you and you know what they will do if they find you."

"No. You're lying."

"You know I'm not, baby. Be a good girl. Come back."

Every room looked the same. She pushed go along people fucking and saltation and drinking. She was in another corridor. She felt like she was in a maze. She let the wall carry her to the base."I can protect you."

She screamed out."Get out of my head."

She saw John Boerman at the upkeep home base. He shouted at her about his gloaming and about her leaving."smell what happened, Abby. You did this. Why didn't you do as I say ?"She saw the constabulary and the early masses she lived with. She saw them laughing at her. She saw them telling her what to do. She saw the man from the societal function. They were all speaking at her. They were all telling her what she could and couldn't do, who she can and who she can't be."No Abby, you can't do that. You need to do this. You need to go here. You can't see that somebody. Stop it, Abby. You're acting out again. What are you wearing ? Are you wearing hair spray ? Why are you dressed like that ?"She saw masked men at the end of the street. Watching her. Following her.

She screamed out again."Make it stop !"

finger's breadth clicked.

She was back in the political party. She was dancing. More men danced with her. Girls danced with her. She was given a drunkenness and then she was drinking More. She was not crying now. She did not sleep together how long it had been since she was on the floor by the wall. She was kissing another girl intensely. Her bridge player were in this girl's hair pulling her closer. Her hands moved down to this fille's breasts, and then Abby had her manpower in this foreign girl's panty and she was fucking this girl with her finger. Abby brought them out and tasted them and she liked how this young woman tasted. A man was touching Abby. She felt his bridge player on her bum. She was kissing him with her tongue. His arm came around her and pulled her into him. She felt his penis against her back. His script were inside her scanty, inside her. She said,"no."It was ignored. She was bent over. She felt a cock in her pharynx and she gagged and tried to protest but her racket was a mumble against the violation in her rima oris. Behind her she felt her lips splitting and something slipping inside her. She cried out"no"onto the rooster."Want a goodness meter, sister ?"Bengay. The man in the car. She heard the engine. Felt it stop. He offered her more disastrous conjuring trick. She felt herself taking it. Blurred reality. medicine played. It was loud. She was on a chair now, her pegleg were open, and her step-in to one English and a man with a mouse's head was between her, inside of her. She shuddered and was crying. She was pleading. individual had their hand on her ponytail and they were pulling on it tight. A girl was between her legs, eating her. She felt like she was floating on a cloud. She was dancing again. A server appeared with another drinkable. She took it in one. She pushed away a man who was advancing on her. secretiveness. And then she was back on the trading floor against the bulwark and he was in front man of her. His front was so much. He walked towards her. Him. The Libertine. He felt prophylactic to her even though she wanted to be away as far away from him as she could. He approached her. He held out his deal.

"Come with me, baby. Let's go some space where it is quiet and you can contribute yourself to me and I will come inside your extra place."

"I don't know."

"Why not ?"

"I need to think."

"Don't think. I can show you thing. I can depict you your wildest dreams. I can evince you everything. Come with me and I'll show you what love is like, what it does and you'll never have to reckon about it again. What else is there for a girl like you but to be Sweet and pretty and give in ?"

Her heart pounded and her capitulum pounded. Abby felt the soft carpet under her feet. She walked over to where The rounder waited. He held out his paw again."That's it, baby. That's it, child."His helping hand outstretched. She took it.

"That's a good girl."

She was back in the individual room. Behind her was a four-poster bed and he told her to lie back on it and although she shook her head she found that her physical structure had betrayed her. She was no longer in control and it scared her. Her heading was a mess of confusion. She felt him against her, and then she felt his lips on her neck and she shuddered. He emanated a heat from his back talk that burnt her. His custody were in her hair. Then slipping to his knees before her, he sniffed the outside of her vagina, inhaling deeply, and then he breathed in the scent emergent from her bastard. He touched every single component part of her and then suddenly she was naked. She felt him hook the lanced panties from under her and slowly hound them off her trunk and over her legs. She felt coolness between her thighs and then she felt his lips on her tegument. She tried to dissent but her words did not come out. She was feeling things she had never felt before. She heard herself elicit a gentle moan as he kissed closelipped to her cunt and he inhaled her scent again. She tried to push him away but he was too strong, too knock-down. He was inside her creative thinker corrupting her motor role. She saw thing that were not hers. Suddenly there was urgency inside her. It was like a red light was on inside her head. ‘ peril. Danger. danger'“ No, wait,"she said."Stop."He tasted her cunt. She took in a sharp-worded, shaking breathing spell as his knife ran across her slit and he felt her moisture. He was like a gentle fire across her loins as he suckled her pounding, swollen goon and flicked her quiver bean. His fingers probed at her. She tried to dissent as he digitally stimulated her but her words were lost in the rigorousness of her breathing space as she moaned and reacted to his touch, his fingers searing inside of her, and she continued to try and protest right up until the moment she rose up over the bound of a burning at the stake peak that gently rippled through her lithe young body, a dead body which had been writhing and twisting against the mattress and his strong unloosen hand that was clamped across her navel to break off her from moving. Even as she reached the top and saw over the edge of the mountaintop he continued and her bloom rose further and more pronounce and more powerful. The entitle ripple turned into a harsh convulsion. Her body was writhing as a tsunami tore through her followed by another. The Libertine withdrew his fingers from inside her, now coated with the light glistening of her orgasm, and he wrote something she could not make out on her body with her cum. She took a sharp inspiration of breathing place when he ran his knife over the penning, tasting her, and then he whispered in her ear ;"I'm going to come inside you where it's all secluded and you'll give in to me."

"No,"she heard herself saying shakily. She did not need this. She felt his lips on hers and her dead body now felt alienate to her. She wanted to protest but was kissing him back even though her foreland was shaking. Her manpower were free but she did not push him off. She felt him, felt his skin and his body and she went up into his masque and she traced the choppiness of his face. She took in his odour. Musk. exertion. Cologne. She thought she could smell out Bengay on him. She tasted him, felt her mouthpiece invaded by his tongue and suddenly he was a drug to her. She kissed him harder and moaned into his mouth. He let her match him for a while and then his hands came down and pulled her arms back up over her head. She blinked. The elbow room was gone and she was in a car. The Libertine was now a man with powder around his nose and a cheek she could not see. She tried to get up but a hand came across her face and she fell back. Her brass stung. She was crying. Her eye stung. She closed them and when they opened the car faded away and she was in the saturnine room with the red silk drapes and the big bed and filled with libidinous squalor. She could find the bulb of his penis against her chest, throbbing with longing as he guided it towards the wet lips between her peg. His strict heat energy brushed against her opening and an involuntary chill rippled through her. She resisted again, she told him no. Her psyche was conflicted, fracturing. The Libertine continued forward, splitting the wet sass of her sex with his extremity, drenching his length with her juices. dorsum and forth he goes, teasing her incoming, forcing her physical structure to assume him and discharge to a greater extent of her nectar for his pleasure. She whimpered in veneration and a touch of arousal and she cried out into the room suddenly as he thrust up into her into unmoved area and she felt vast and bloated like she was being forced apart and she conceded and she gave herself to this unknown. A fervidness burned inside of her. Her consistency rose up to meet him and he kissed her heavily and then pushed her back. She heard herself protesting still but the voice sounded noncitizen. She felt tears on her cheeks and she was crying again—harder. He settled against her womb and then he started to tease at her mamilla. Her minuscule white-hot white meat and knock areolas seemed lost in his big script. He stroked the easygoing skin underneath her boob until they tingled and he toyed with her mammilla with his thumb, pinching them between his fingerbreadth until her pap stiffened and began to yen. Her miserly erogeneity opened up for him. She tried to wrestle but his helping hand held hers above her header. She felt him kissing at her body and her breasts. He thrust up into her again and again and again and he groaned out into the emptiness of this dour stead at the tightness of this young girl's promise. Each metre his pelvis slapped against her she moaned out and a soft, gentle, quiet feminine whimper left her sassing. Her back arched as he slammed into her unvoiced and he groaned out as their pubic bones crunched, and then he started to rock his hips, faster and harder until he was pounding at her, assailing her. She had been with people before but she had not known this. She had not known a man to use and defile her like this and he leaned in and told her he was going to do everything he had ever done to a womanhood to her. His heart were filled with concupiscent admiration and concurrent fear and terror. His eye were filled with so much wrath and fire and craze. She heard herself asking him to stop over but her words were lost in the guttural sound of her moaning and then she found herself kissing him, kissing at his lips as if they were air and she needed him to catch one's breath. She felt his paw come up and clasp around her throat and then she felt him closing in and she struggled for breathing spell. Muzak played from somewhere and above it she heard her own moans and the slapping of his egg against her ass. He fucked her. She started to feel something beginning in her toes, a tingling that quickly rose up through her body and then something peaked and tore through her like a firework rising up before exploding and when it popped her torso vibrated and she shook violently as a searing tsunami of climax took control of her and her body convulsed in fill out hedonism. She was gone now—her mind was a pile of belief and emotion. She had fractured. He was taking her in every way that he could. He continued to clog up her until she felt light headed. Her hands clawed at The Libertine, pulling him harder into her, and he did not stop. He continued his ravishment on her Brigham Young body, feeling her tautness accepting the girth of his extension and he groaned out as her oleaginous secretion covered the electric light of his phallus. She was breathless but he continued to get laid her with abandon as a second wave tore through her and then a third and then she panted, her breathing spell shaking. His hand around her throat tightened still. She was low-cal headed now. hitch. She did not eff how many multiplication she had cum. She was drained, and then she heard him groan out as he exploded inside of her, and she felt a burning hell on earth from within his rogue member as his seeded player plastered her uterus and then the inferno began tearing through her consistence, spreading to every single nerve ending and she was burning up, sweating from her pores. She was like that for a while—she did not hump how long—suspended in a drained emptiness like she was the only person in the world. She drifted in and out. She felt his semen leaking out of her and running down her thigh and pooling on the bed. She had a dull pounding and soreness between her thighs. She heard racket but she could not make them out. He said something to her but she could not understand what it was. She felt a shrewd combustion pain in her bum and then affair went dark…

She felt herself falling through darkness and then she was somewhere and nowhere, like she was suspended in jazz. She saw things. Heard voices that were fellow to her. She saw a combustion hell on earth engulfing the shadow. She saw a rush of visual sensation of her life. She was older. She saw hoi polloi she did not acknowledge. She saw felicity and winner. She saw clear blue skies and interminable ocean and arenaceous beaches. She felt more joy than she had ever felt. She heard music playing and waves crashing against the rock music. She heard laugher. A infant cried. mortal was telling her it was a boy. She felt overwhelming happiness. And then she felt pain and suffering. The sun went behind the grim of cloud and the wafture became harsher and more herculean and she heard a wind so impregnable it was like a hundred hurricanes all in one. She saw eyes in the sky. A man with fervency in his middle. She looked into them and thought she understood the eyes. He was the wind and the rain and the dark. He was the flack and the sunup star. He was the blaze pit. He was every bad dream she had ever had. He was all of Abby's worst nightmares. He was lust and jealousy and avaritia and envy and gluttony and pridefulness and wrath and sloth. He was the poisonous tree and the yield that fell from it. He was pestilence and war and famine and death. He was every iniquity thought in her top dog, every terrible moment and every whip fear. He was the end of everything. She felt a pain inside her like she was being torn apart. Her torso stung and nerves screamed and her muscles ached. She was doubled over in pain. She felt like her torso was going to fragment outwards into a million piddling small-arm. She felt loss. She heard a baby in distraint. She heard screaming and then the shrieking rose like a tenor to a pitch so unbelievable, so unbearable that she thought her psyche was going to burst forth.

Abby woke suddenly. Her fuzz was matted to the pillow and her forehead and for the first few moments—when she was awake but not aware—she was the exposure of contentment. She was in those treasured few instant when you first wake up, the one where your oculus struggle to assume the light that comes in that burning white blur and that makes you to fight to keep them spread out. The moments where everything is peaceful and perfect and where you could ingest been anyone and anywhere, and then Abby came back to herself as her cognisance woke up and the day had started and her surroundings came to her quickly. She wondered where she was and then she took a acute intake of breathing space and in those first few second her contraceptive diaphragm went into spasm and she struggled for breath and she lay, her back talk open, gasping for air until it came in a wave and she took as much in as she could. She shot up and rubbed her buttony oculus and they scanned the room quickly. Her breathing settled. Her black playsuit was hung up on her closet. She was dwelling. Her breathing started to resolve just a little bit. Her pharynx was dry and her mouth were sore and had that albumen crusting like she had been out for a Nox on the drunkenness. Her head thumped with a hammer as if someone with a jackhammer was inside working on her cranium. The bed canvass below her was damp with the wetness caused from her sweating. She was in a reduce white nightgown that was stuck to her back and her navel and she had on a pair of plain albumen cotton panties underneath. She had a throbbing between her legs and soreness in her second joint that she could not attribute anything to. She tried to remember but her memories were black as if they had been erased and the more than she thought the more she was greeted with emptiness—as if individual had put a tape recording in the machine that was her head but when they had pressed swordplay it was just Grey and black atmospheric static like it had recorded nothing at all. She contorted her face hard as if trying to commemorate but she could not, and then she found she was crying in thwarting at what eluded her. It was dreamlike. She knew something should suffer been there.

For a time—the exact length she was not entirely sure—she sat in the middle of the bed, legs crossed and the sheets pushed down—just thinking and looking into nothingness. She combed her hair back with her hands. Her pallid complexion was stained with the tracks of her tears that ran down her expression and dotted around the bedding. Her death cogent memory was of music playing from the speaker in the turning point of the way. It was of being out on the streets walking to somewhere. It was a sleek black car curb bit crawling. It was the feeling of Bengay. A vocalization :"Looking for a good time, child ?"The more she tried to cerebrate the more than her read/write head trauma. After a piece she breathed out and she looked up into the room. Grey sunrise visible radiation was streaming through the gaps in the curtains. wet was on the window but the rain had abated. subatomic particle in the room floated as if existing in their own time material body. clock time. Something thumped in her head. She felt like she had lost time. A clock ticked in the box of the room. It was 09:23 AM. She pictured a clock with no hands ticking. She heard something in her headland saying time did not exist. The head ache returned stronger. She started to await around. Something caught her eye, a spark of something prosperous, and she turned and a screaming got lost in her throat and she just ended up making a frighten interference. She jumped up. Sitting on the rest next to where she had been sleeping was a mask—golden and bright and covered with a golden floral form. She thought it familiar but she did not know where she had seen it before. She reached out and touched it. She whipped her finger's breadth back suddenly as if an electric shock tore through her and she saw herself wearing the masquerade in a strange room. Dark drapes covered the windows. She was stood with someone but she could not see his or her expression. They were saying something but the spokesperson sounded upstage like it was being spoken under H2O. The thought disappeared. She reached out again and picked it up and she ran her hands over the aim. Her fountainhead thumped. She turned to see who she was stood with but the memory was too nimble and then it was lost and no matter how much she tried she vision eluded her. Her head harm again and it forced her eyes closed. She rubbed her os frontale.

Abby stood in the shower down melancholic. The water cascaded down over her naked soundbox. She turned up the temperature and let it parch at her skin. She liked to feel the sunburn as it washed all the stain and sudor from her body. There had been blood in her panty when she had taken them off. She had started menarche a couplet of years before but she did not reckon she was due her cycle for another few weeks. Her bum was sore. She felt bloated as if she was swollen. She stood under the water system and let it pour down over her question. remembering were like flashbacks, quick and unacceptable to decrypt. She saw the mask in her head word. She heard fruity music. Voices she did not recognise but they were not weighty and they did not make sense to her. She ran her hands over her body ; she felt her skin tingling and electrocution. She closed her optic and she could hear a phonation talking to her but it was too far away. She heard someone call her"baby."She touched her rim and they were seared and dry. She was picturing a fille kissing her but she could not see her cheek. She screamed out into the water system and then she started to cry again although she did not know why.

She had been laid on her bed looking up at the alligatored plaster on her ceiling for a long clock time before the knocking on the door disturbed her. She took in breather and then looked up for a little longer.

"Abby. Abby are you in there ? Abby."

With a lethargy she attributed to whatever she had gone through the previous night she pulled herself up off the bed and walked across to the door. She felt weary. Her body ached. She was in a loose tee and some black leggings. She caught her reflection in the mirror and thought she looked unwell. She opened the threshold and gasped and staggered back. John Boerman was not an old man. He had sort heart and a round face and he was probably around thirty. He smiled at Abby and asked if she was OK and she remembered—rage and anger and hostility. She saw herself out of organic structure, arguing, fighting and then she was pushing him back down the stairs and he tumbled and fell until he lay in a silent heap at the foot of the stair. She could see the blood pooling from his head. She saw the smear on the wall from where his capitulum had hit it. Her manus were shaking.

"Abby what's awry ?"

She tried to talk but discussion did not forget her undetermined backtalk. He smiled at her again."The police just have a few follow up questions, Abby. It's subprogram. It won't take long. They're just really concerned about you after what happened. You were in quite a nation when they found you. Are you feeling any just ?"

She was confused. Her head hurt even more. She looked at him. He did not expose any injuries. His header looked together and healthy and bruise-less and clean. How could that be ? She studied him silently."I'm so sorry for what happened,"she said after a consequence."I did not mean to anguish you last nighttime. I'm so sorry."

He looked at her quizzically but he did not directly answer him."Come on, Abby. You've been through a lot this finish few days."

He led her towards the stairs by his big arm and she went with him, shakily. Few days ? What did he mean ‘ few days ?'When they had found her ? Found her where ? She apologised to him again and promised him that she would change and then as they started to go down the stairs and he looked at her with that funny, teasing look again and said—"But Abby, I don't know what on Earth you're talking about…"

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