Fallen Angel

He goes to the other breast and repeats whatever he is doing, and after she stiffens she pulls him to her. Not my will but thine be done. He's going deeper, trading sides, left, right, left, and Miriam is pouring into him. Each bite makes her go rigid and pulls tremors from her swollen puss, to her face, and out her mouth. She forces herself to hold his face to her teat because it is so glorious. She pushes harder against him, pulls away, pushes. He sucks from her and she begins losing her strength, her moisture. Her eyes go dry, and her mouth. She can't even swallow. Miriam becomes weaker and dryer and blissful. Finally she can't hold herself up at all.

* * * * *

Nephilim is standing over her. When did he finish? How long did he suckle? For Miriam: no time. Forever. Miriam would be covered in a fine sweat but her skin is almost dusty. Her mouth is bone. Her eyes are filled with grit. She is so, so frail: her energy seeped away sweetly. If she looked in a mirror she would see she is ghastly white and her ravaged breasts hang almost flat on her chest. She has to hold Nephilim to keep from sinking to the floor.

There is blood on Nephilim's lips. Miriam frowns, touches his mouth, and stares at her fingertips. She looks down. There are punctures on her nipples and areolae, all over. More punctures are spread over the white -- red, inflamed. Miriam begins to slide. Nephilim is larger and stronger, or is it that she is so weak? Thirsty. Dry. She is gone, except for her nipples and her vulva and a faint vibration, something humming from below.

He smiles down at her, moves fingers around and around her tattered nips, then licks the blood. Next her fingertips. He moves them to his mouth, sucks her fingers deeply. She yearns for his saliva. He bends to kiss her, and when they kiss she tastes her blood on his mouth and he lets her swallow. Her knees finally give way.

"Don't fall just yet, love." She tries to stay upright. "You need to finish with your clothes." He brushes the straps of her brassier, which had hung from her shoulders, and it falls. "Now the rest."

If Miriam could fall to the floor along with her bra it would be so much easier, but he won't let her.

"I'm so tired, Amon."

"There, there."

"Let me lie down."

"There, there."

She leans back, half against her desk, and works her slacks and panties. When they drop she smells herself.

"Now my pants. Open them."

It is the gorgeous penis that Georgia loved, erect, curving. Miriam puts her hands to Nephilim's abdomen and now she does sink to the floor, until she is kneeling. She can't hold herself up anymore. She leans against his thigh, her left arm around his leg, and with her right hand she strokes his erection softly, petting it. She pulls it to her mouth to drink it and to keep from sinking all the way. She needs it, but he won't let her have it.

"That's not what we're doing, love."

"Please." All. The. Way. She's empty and needs filling. She's desperate for him.

"I've had enough of that for now."

"I want to, Amon. I'll be so sweet to you."

"I know you will, but it's not what we're doing."

He slaps her face. It is out of the blue. Sharp on her left cheek. Her head jerks with it and she squeaks. He slaps her other cheek. Another squeak. The world flickers again. Oh my love, my love, my love. There are white stars that float every direction. "You'll do what I say, won't you?" Miriam blinks and nods. Of course she will. My love. My Amon. "What we're going to do is less a drawing of water from the well and more of an injection into the fundament. More like fracking."

"Amon."

"Now tell me you want me to fuck your ass."

"Please Amon. My ass."

"Say the word."

"Amon."

"Say it. Ask me sweetly."

"Amon. Please. Fuck my ass. Please do me."

"Of course I will. Anything for Miriam."

He lifts her by her underarms, all the way up. He nuzzles her face, then turns her around and tosses her to the desk, where "Oh!" she falls like a doll: arms, legs, head going different directions. She's trying to grab something, anything to keep from sliding, but she needn't bother. He comes up behind her and puts his front to her rear, which holds her still. She's on top of the sandwich, and a pencil point from the cup is sticking her breast. Nephilim pumps some lotion from the bottle to his fingers and puts the cold stuff to her ass.

"This will make it easier."

One finger, then another, then a third, all slide into her, and she groans.

"Such a lovely sound. A mewling Miriam moan. A lamentation or a sigh? I want more of those, but you're not allowed to scream."

With that he circles her anus three times with the head of his penis and pushes in. Just a bit, opening Miriam nicely, just a tease so she will think she can take it easily, holding for a moment until he says "Now," when he pushes all the way into her and his hips smack against her bum.

Miriam doesn't scream, but she does mew. It comes from holding her mouth closed and yelling against her lips. Nephilim holds himself in. He's too much, too large! Is she tearing back there? Is she bleeding? He pulls out slowly, slowly, until only the beautiful head is still inside her and she's only panting.

He pushes in again. All. The. Way. Another mew, a little louder. She can't help herself. Another fuck. Miriam reaches back to push at Nephilim's cock.

"Oh no we don't! This is your body, which is given to me." He slaps her hand away and pushes in again, not in any hurry, and at the same time he twists her clitoris like he had her nipples and recites a parody of a nursery rhyme:

"Hey little fiddle, your cunt I will diddle, you cow, I want you to moan."

She does, and he continues, and Miriam's moans change from lamentations, from "Ohh" to "Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!" In all the world there's only Amon stretching her, his hand at her front, fingers twisting her nub around and making her jerk. He takes her back up to where she was before, so high she might fall, which she does. She bleats it to the world but is too weak to more than twitch. Nephilim finishes by grabbing her hips in both hands and pushing faster, to ejaculate, grunting, not poetic at all.

And, yes, she feels his cream. It's not just some spurt. It's a torrent rushing up through her ass, like rain on the desert, flooding the arroyos, spreading from Miriam's ass to her bowels and then to all her parts. Her eyes become wet again. Her mouth isn't dry anymore. Her breasts swell, and something starts seeping from her nipples. Something is flowering, and there's a smell of wet dung. She's filled with fluid again and yet, when he finally finishes and pulls out she's parched. It wasn't enough. It will never be enough.

Miriam collapses.

Nephilim leans down and picks up her panties, pulls back his foreskin and rubs the panties around his prick for a minute, then drops them by her head. They are stained brown and red. He pulls up his underwear, tucks in his shirt, buttons and zips his slacks, and fastens his belt while she looks up at her love.

"Amon." She gapes at him, all honeyed and floating. Down below she's feeling her ass agape.

He ignores her.

"Amon."

He leans down again, and smiles, but this time it's cruel.

"Tata for now. You'd best get dressed. This shit, pun intended, would be hard to explain." He points to her panties.

What?

"Amon." She shakes her head. "No. Don't leave. You said you love me!"

Another leer. He's a gargoyle. "No, I don't think so."

"But you said..."

"What I said? What did I say? What do I say? Oh right! This is what I say." He holds a hand out, palm upward, like a bad actor in a melodrama. "My little whore, you're such a queer, to come from fucking in the rear." He winks at her.

See it happen. Miriam's hand rising to her mouth, her eyes this wide against her dead pale face. If you see it you know she understands nothing, and you know why. She can't let herself understand anything. But finally, she has to fill the void:

"When will I see you again?"

"If I want you I'll call." He turns and walks away.

"Please, Amon. Take me with you. I'll do anything you want!"

"I know, dearie." His steps reverberate down the hall.

*****

It isn't over for Miriam.

She hears steps from the other end of the hall. Quick! She pushes against the floor, pulls on the desk, gets to her feet, and staggers to the door. She almost falls. She closes the door and latches it. Please don't come here. She leans against the door, totally out of gas, trying to breathe quietly, and listens as the steps get close, closer, pause, and pass by.

She finds herself sitting at her desk, though she doesn't remember how she got there. She uses tissue after tissue to wipe her ass and drops them in the trash, then reconsiders and takes them out. She stuffs them into a manilla envelope, seals it, twists it up, and drops the whole thing in the can.

Now get dressed, Miriam. First her pants. Not her panties. Her nipples are covered in blood again. She wads tissues into the cups of her bra, but when she tries to fasten it her nipples hurt so much that she has to stop. Hold your breath. Pull. Slide the fastener. Breathe. It takes three tries.

Next, her blouse. Her shoes. Miriam gathers more tissues. She leans to pick up her panties, and grunts when her breasts shift inside her bra. Breathe. Wrap the panties in layers of tissue. Shove them deep into your purse. Stop to catch your breath. Let your heart slow down. Breathe.

One more thing. Miriam brings up the on-line Faculty Directory. She finds Amon Nephilim's office number and writes it down.

When she can, she totters to the door again, hitting the desk, a chair, a floor lamp, a filing cabinet. The lamp falls and she leaves it. Unlock the door. Open it. She leans against the frame and feels the world spin, and she thinks. Finally she steps into the hall and locks the door behind her.

End.