Archive-name: Fantasy/aimee-j.txt
Archive-author: Elf Sternberg
Archive-title: Aimee - j - Chapter 8


AIMEE'                                                         Chapter VIII
~~~~~                                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~

     The bitter cold whipped against Aimee's face.  "My cloak, sir.  
Please!"

     "It is of no matter, Aimee'," Teltirray hissed, impatiently.  He 
disliked waiting, especially when a stupid girl like Aimee' slowed him 
down.  Although even he had to admit that she was less stupid than most.  
Her beauty, like flawless amber, attracted him to her, and he had known so 
many months ago that he had to possess her.  He had arranged with the idiot 
at the orphanage to "tutor" her, so long as all record of her existence 
disappeared off their books.  If she died, there would be no investigation.  
He knew that.  He had paid good money for that little "feature."

     He smiled.  "Feature."  The convenience of sloughing off one of these 
simple creatures was something he would easily pay for, just to be done 
with it.  Especially in these later years, now that he had found a route to 
power that once he had only dreamed of.  For that route, though, Aimee' was 
almost entirely used up.  Her body could not withstand the pleasures he 
sought for much longer, although he had to admit that both Bethsany and 
Darynn had trained her very well, for although his need for violence had 
increased a great deal, so had her survivability, just by her strength.  He 
would call on their services again to train the next one.

     Aimee' was sobbing silently as he hauled her through the snowbound 
streets.  "Silence, girl!" he snarled at her.  That insufferable noise 
would drive him mad after too long, and he could not bear to hear it.  "You 
will have plenty of tears when we get home."

     "Sir, please.  I cannot!"

     "Oh, you certainly can, Aimee'.  Because I so will that you can."

     "Sir!"

     "I said shut up!"  He released her long enough to slap her across the 
face, then grabbed her by the hair and pushed her in front of him.

     They reached his small, round home soon enough, and the doors opened 
to let him in.  "Good evening, sir," his chamberlain said.

     "I will be in the upper chambers tonight, Ricar.  See to it that I am 
not disturbed."

     "Of course, sir."  Teltirray watched, pleased, as he bowed and walked 
away, his back stiff and strong.  Men were like that, he thought, strong.  
Even the ones who could not do magic deserved his respect far more than the 
soft, pathetic forms of the lesser sex, although the magic-less always 
deserved to be the chattel of men like him.

     He led her up the flights of stairs and into his bedroom.  "Remove 
your clothes."

     "Sir..."

     "Do it!" he growled.  "Or I'll flay the skin from your bones."

     Aimee' looked away, and Teltirray saw her jaw clenched in anger.  He 
smiled to himself, knowing that she was helpless to do anything.  She would 
submit to his whims.  She removed her boots, then slowly undid her pants, 
picking up one leg at a time and sliding out of them.  She tossed the scarf 
aside, but as she removed her shirt she hesitated.  Teltirray saw a curious 
smile cross her face.  "You're dawdling!"  His anger grew as she hesitated 
longer, but finally she threw her tunic aside with a snarl.  Teltirray 
laughed.  "Is my pussy kitty angry?" he asked, soft and sarcastic.  "Get on 
that bed!"

     She hesitated, and he swore.  Without a word, he thought his favorite 
spell in her direction, simple Pain, and she buckled over, agonized.  Her 
stomach would tie itself into knots fighting the pain he was feeding her if 
he didn't let up.  Finally he did.  "Now, get on the bed, Aimee'."

     "You'll kill me anyway," she gasped, looking up at him.

     He backhanded her.  Although a mage and not a warrior, he was still a 
strong man, and she staggered back, landing on the bed.  He reached down 
and snatched her right wrist,  wrapping a black band around it.  "I could 
make it more painful, you know," he growled.

     "It already hurts!"

     "I'll make it worse!" he replied.  "You weak bitch."  He turned her 
over, and although she fought, his strength made her less than a rag doll, 
and he affixed another black band to her left wrist.  "Take her," he said 
to the air, and the bands pulled her into the air.  She whimpered.  "That's 
it," he smiled at her.  "That's it.  Try and remember the spells Darynn 
taught you.  Try and use them.  Save yourself as much as possible.  It'll 
just make my pleasure last longer."

     Aimee' concentrated.  She tried to find the spells she knew, and in 
the back of her mind they were marshalling to her defense.  Chants flowed 
from her lips, soft and sensuous to her tongue as they healed her wounds 
and eased her pain.  "Good," Teltirray sniggered.  "That's it.  Make it 
last longer."   Her chest heaved as she breathed, gasping the words to 
spells that might make her last one more minute.  She felt his hand caress 
her belly, her thighs.  More bands went onto her ankles, and Teltirray 
spread her legs apart.  His magic glued her to the wall over his bed like 
some obscene statue.  She had spent more than one night like that, over his 
head, forced to sleep that way for his amusement.  His hands touched her 
almost gently.  "Say goodbye, Aimee'."

     She looked down at him, holding her voice for a moment.  All she said 
was, "Goodbye."

     Teltirray grimaced, taking up a heavy, knotted scourge in his hands.  
"Now," he said, "Scream for me."  The wall behind Aimee' grew warm, and she 
felt the flow of magic through it.  She didn't know what the magic was, but 
she could feel it coursing into her, as if seeking something within her.  
It wasn't just magic... it was alive.  And it was looking for something 
within her, but she could almost feel it's frustration and she knew it 
didn't know how to find what it was looking for.

     Teltirray was smiling at her, his eyes alight with madness.  "It's a 
demon," he said.  "A friend.  It... supplies me with the knowledge I need.  
The cost, of course, is you.  Not that I mind."  His smile twisted into an 
ugly snarl.  "It needs your pain, Aimee', but eventually even that won't 
do.  Then, it wants your life.  But it doesn't know how to find it."  He 
looked down at the whip.  "Pain is also his map.  And this... this will 
show him the way."

     He shouted as he brought the whip down against her body.  The blades 
of black leather crashed against her belly and she grunted in sharp pain.  
The whip fell again, the tails landing hard against her thighs.  She 
squirmed, holding her tongue in, trying not to scream.  The presence within 
her turned, seeking.  The whip came again, against her chest.  Ugly red 
streaks grew from her skin.

     As Teltirray struck her, harder and harder, he began cursing her.  "I 
let Darynn teach you too well how to handle pain."  His efforts grew harder 
as he slammed the whip into her skin, torturing her, giving her all the 
pain and suffering he could inflict.  The presence within her lived on the 
pain, enjoying it as much as it seemed ready to enjoy her death.  She could 
not afford to give in.

     But the whip was too persuasive.  She bled from a dozen tortured 
slashes, the crimson fluid coursing down her body.  Darynn had told her, 
once, about how precious blood was, and Bethsany had talked about the magic 
of menstrual blood, and she herself knew what it meant to drop it to the 
soil.  The whip fell once more, and finally she screamed.

     "Yes!" Teltirray shouted as he whipped her.  "Scream, Aimee', scream!"  
She did.  She twisted and tore at her impenetrable bonds.  Teltirray's face 
was covered in sweat, his muscles bunched, the whip flying over his head to 
strike at her body again and again in long, angry slashes.  Aimee' cried 
and screamed as the tears dripped off her chin and the blood streamed down 
her body and dripped from her toes onto Teltirray's pillow.

     And as she screamed, her body fighting without her control, her mind 
came oddly to peace.  The demon was coming for her soul, now, and she found 
she could live with that.  She opened her eyes.

     In the background, she heard the sounds of the whip and the screams of 
her mouth, but in her eyes she saw only a door.  A curious, oaken door, 
encarved with runes, and at the center it read, simply, Aimee'.  She knew 
where she stood, and she knew there was no reason to fight.  She threw the 
door open and waited for the demon to come for her.

     It came.  A green, ugly thing, shaped like a man with the head of a 
cow and the muscles of some corrupt machine, it charged for her, its face 
lewd and grinning.

     But as it lunged for the door, she felt a coolness about her throat, 
and then something... someone blocked her view.  A sword of icy blue 
flickered in her vision, and a squeal of indignant pain echoed out in the 
corridors of her mind.  Then the body in her way was gone, running after 
the demon it... she had struck with the sword.  She was dressed in leathers 
of the same cold blue of the sword.  Aimee' looked out, wondering what she 
was staring it.  The sky was a light grey color, and before her spread a 
cold, flat, sheet of dark grey ice.  In the distance, two figures fought, 
the woman with the sword, and the green and hateful demon.

     The demon sprang for the woman, and the woman blocked the airborne 
monster with an easy swipe of the sword.  The demon thudded across the ice.  
"Girl!" she shouted at Aimee'.  "You must kill Teltirray!  I will not be 
able to hold this creature forever!"

     "I don't know how!"

     "Yes, you do!  Now go!"  The woman gestured, and a blue bolt flew at 
Aimee', striking her body.

     She looked out into the world.  Her vision was blurred, and Teltirray 
was panting, holding the whip in one hand, but he was not hitting her 
anymore.  "Why don't you die?" he screamed at her.  "Die, you stupid bitch!  
Die!"

     He looked at her, his eyes fixed at her.  "I'll make you hurt so much 
the demon will be sure to find your soul.  To the Dark with whips."  He 
reached forward, his hand on her belly, and began chanting.  Aimee' 
recognized the spell, The Pain That Will Kill, and accepted it into her 
body.  Her nerves began to burn.  Teltirray had used this spell on her 
before, and she had learned, if not to enjoy it, to at least understand it.  
And as the pain reached into her soul, she heard the clash of claws and 
steel within.  She grinned at Teltirray.

     "Die, damn you!"  Teltirray's eyes narrowed as the sweat poured from 
his balding head.  "Die!"

     But Aimee' refused to die.  She refused to let him win.  And as she 
accepted The Pain That Will Kill, she recognized the sensation.  She knew 
that spell.  She had seen it in a mirror once, as The Pleasure That Sings.  
She had seen it a long time ago.  In a book.  Darynn's book.  And she knew 
how to use The Pleasure That Sings.  And in knowing, she saw the 
differences between the two spells.  With an almost casual, contemptuous 
thought, she turned Pain inside out and claimed it as her own.

     The look in Teltirray's face turned from hatred to shock as he felt 
his hand burn.  Flames erupted in his imagination.  Surely he had to be on 
fire!  He backed away from her, feeling The Pain That Will Kill for the 
first time directed at his own flesh.  He screamed as the pain  became 
instantly more than he could bear.

     Aimee' had no trouble maintaining the spell.  It didn't matter anymore 
if the power she needed to kill him killed her as well.  His demon was 
busy, his power expended, his concentration ruined.  She had him.  She 
stepped away from the wall and fell to the bed, crumpling to her knees.  In 
her soul, sword and claws clashed.  And she knew who wielded the sword.  It 
could only be.

     "That necklace!" Teltirray shouted.  "Bethsany!  That bitch!  I'll 
kill her when I'm finished with you!"  He leapt for, his hands upon her, 
grabbing for her throat.

     Aimee' panicked, and in her instinctual reaction her knee came up 
solidly between his legs.  Pain redoubled pain in Teltirray's belly, and he 
doubled over, grabbing at his crotch, his eyes closed with suffering.  
"And, now, Master Teltirray, it's over."  Seizing a heavy candlestick 
holder from the bedside, she smashed it down on his head.  He grunted in 
surprise, but seemed unable to summon any more than that to his defense.  
She struck him again.  Over and over until his skull staved in and his 
heart stopped beating.  And then, in her own blinding pain from the 
suffering he had inflicted with the whip, she collapsed, falling off the 
bed and onto the floor.

     She crawled, slowly, to her cloak, pulling it over her.  The magic had 
stopped, and with it her strength had fled.  She had only one thought now, 
one thing to sustain her.  Sobbing softly, she opened the door and limped 
down the stairs.  She escaped through the service door in the kitchen.

     The snow bit bitterly into her feet, making her wince as she walked, 
but she never slowed down.  The cold ate at her through the rough, thick 
wool.  It didn't matter.  Her tears grew stronger, yet in the dead of 
winter even the hardiest thief dared not go out, and she walked across the 
city, block after frozen block, unmolested and alone.  Finally, her pain 
reaching blinding proportions again, she found the door she sought.  She 
collapsed in front of it, moaning softly in pain as she scabbed her knee on 
the icy stone, and pounded on the heavy oaken door with the flesh of her 
palm.

     A rustle within, a questioning inquiry through the door, a familiar 
tickle of magic.  Then, the sudden rush of bolts being thrown and wards 
being broken.  The door threw open.  "Aimee'!"

     Darynn reached down and picked her up, carrying her inside.  The door 
closed behind him.  "You must be frozen!"

     She suddenly realized that he was holding her.  With a whimper, she 
threw her arms around him and held onto him for her life, realizing that 
she was safe, finally.  Tears broke out of her again, and his arms 
surrounded her while she cried her final cry, letting out the last year of 
pain and suffering, giving it to Darynn, and then to the past.  "He's 
dead," she gasped at one point.  "He's dead."

     "Are you sure?"

     Aimee' nodded.  "I... I crushed his skull."  A snarl crossed her 
pretty mouth as her eyes searched Darynn's face, looking for confirmation.  
"I dropped him to the floor with Pain and then I took the candlestick and 
hit him again and again and again until his blood and his brains ran over 
the bedsheets!  He's dead, Darynn, he's dead!"  

     "Certainly sounds like it."  He gave her a gentle squeeze.  "You're 
bloody all over, Aimee'."

     "Hurts," she agreed softly.  "I... I need to get clean.  And my boots.  
I forgot to take the laces out of them.  I need to get back..."

     Darynn recognized that kind of logic as belonging to someone in a 
great deal of shock and confusion.  "No, Aimee', you don't.  You need to 
come with me."

     "But... Teltirray..."

     "Is dead, remember?"  He smiled gently, a smile that hid his fear 
within.  "Come.  Come with me."

     "If... you're sure it's safe?"

     "Very," Darynn replied.  "Come."

     She finally agreed and followed him.  He led her into the bedroom, 
then through to the bath.  "Sit," he said, indicating the large wooden tub.  
She complied.  He drew warm water for her, and did his best to clean the 
wounds that crossed her belly, breasts, and thighs.  The dried blood 
softened with the water and slowly he exposed the beautiful girl who lay 
hidden underneath all that running redness.  With a few gentle spells he 
closed the worst of her wounds, the ones that still wept blood and serum.

     He found himself wondering what she would look like in the throes of 
passion, or even the pain of whips when the whips were lovingly 
administered.  It was the first time in decades he had considered a woman 
as a companion, and the first time ever that the idea actually appealed to 
him.  Yet, it wasn't Aimee's femininity that appealed to him so much as it 
was her raw, inner strength.  She had killed Teltirray, to hear her say it.  
And within, he believed her.  He was as sure as she that Teltirray had come 
to earn what he deserved.  

     And, curiously, her shape appealed to him as well.  The effect was 
indescribable.  Something new, he realized, and he did not reject the 
thought.  It did not bother him that he found someone beautiful just 
because he was unfamiliar with her kind of beauty.  "Sir?" he heard her 
ask.

     Looking down, he realized that he had cupped her breast in his hand 
and was fondling her gently.  "My apologies, Aimee'.  I was... distracted."  
Yet, he could not imagine what he would do with her.  Actually, he knew 
full well.  He just could not imagine a balance to it, the kind of balance 
he found among men, where each could fulfill both roles, as taker and 
giver, with a woman, even though he knew full well that most people lived 
lives of such imbalance every day.  "There will be an investigation, you 
know."

     She nodded, her eyes barely open.  "I know.  I wonder what will 
happen?"

     "I do not know."  He stroked her wet and glistening skin, so red and 
dark, and found himself wishing he could touch more of her.  What more did 
he want?

     Then, he remembered.  And he smiled.  He wanted her to undress in his 
presence and say that she wanted him.  To be as forward, as forceful, as 
gleefully hungry to bed him as any boy or man Darynn had ever had.  For 
that, he could wait.

     He helped her out of the tub and dried her off.  She stumbled a little 
as she walked, but she finally and successfully navigated her way to a 
bedroom he showed her, and finally he pulled the blankets over her and she 
was asleep.

--
"Aimee', Chapter 8"
Aimee' is copyright (c) 1993 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.  This story may be 
freely distributed by electronic media; hardcopies are limited to single 
printings for personal use.