index


Message-ID: <40130asstr$1041106205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: eidelon262@aol.com (Eidelon262)
Subject: {ASSM} Letter From Cecilia
Date: Sat, 28 Dec 2002 15:10:05 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Brian was just beginning to enjoy the first bite of his chateau briand when he
noticed an older waiter weaving through the crowded smoky restaurant toward his
table. Brian was alone for dinner that evening as usual. Having others at the
table distracted his palate. Doug's was famous in Tampa for it's excellently
aged beef, and Brian wanted nothing to diminish his dining experience.

Yet the waiter was skilled at cutting through the crowded restaurant and would
not be stopped. He also recognized the bliss of a gourmand's expression, and
did not speak until he had seen Brian follow his small first bite with a tiny
amount of vintage Sauvignon.

"Would you be Mister Prince?" the waiter asked.

"For a price," Brian felt like saying, but instead only responded with a simple
"Yes."

"There is an attractive young woman at the bar who wishes to join you. She has
written you this letter."

"Thank you." Brian accepted a folded cocktail napkin and gave the waiter ten
dollars. "And my compliments on the beef. It compares very well with Kobe."

"Thank you, sir."

The waiter waited while Brian straightened the damp napkin near the base of his
wine glass and saw the ink slowly running into illegibility. He could make out
the shapes of words like "attractive" and "drinks", but only because that's
what he had seen so much before.

The worst part about restaurants like this was that they attracted women more
interested in money than love.

Brian was more interested in fine beef than money or love.

On some nights he was certain that he acquired the trait when he was a boy on
the family dairy farm. Aging a slaughtered animal brought a very distinct
quality to the meat that marinating alone could not duplicated. Brian supposed
he was only reaching for the memory of the foods he enjoyed as a child.

Other times, he wasn't so sure. He preferred younger beef, and all the cows he
butchered in his youth had been milkers past their productive years. They
weren't fed for their meat, but there wasn't a part that wasn't used from them
in death.

"Tell the young lady that I am flattered, but must decline tonight."

"Of course, sir."

The steak was half-gone (and the potato and sour creme demolished) when Brian's
solitary bliss was interrupted by a bleary false blond.

"I'm Cecelia!" she said. "I wrote you a letter! A goddamn letter!"

"M'dear, it warmed my heart. But I need to be alone tonight. Really, I just
have to be alone."

"Well fuck you!" she screamed. "Nobody ignores me! Nobody!"

By this time two waiters had attended to see her out. By morning she would
probably be weighted with regret, if she even remembered the night. I noticed
her phone number on the napkin, by now erased with something that smelled like
an olive-heavy martini.

The next morning in Brian's hotel room was pure joy. The good meal was through
his body, and there is nothing in the world that leaves you at peace like a
good dump. Not even sex. You sit down with an even more pressing need and you
are rewarded with serenity. hHe flushed once and waited, and then flushed a
second time. That's when Brian heard the knock.

It was a young boy in a uniform. Terrible skin and no manners. He thrust a bent
envelope at him and said "Here." Brian toed the door shut in his face. He
wouldn't be staying there again anyway.

Brian dropped the thing on the bureau and packed and was ready to leave when he
noticed the quality of the envelope. It was watermarked linen. He had four
hours to get to the airport. Two would be spent waiting on security, and a
third in the VIP lounge.

"Dear sir," it started.

"I am so very sorry for last night. Gin does that to me. That's why I don't
drink it often. Last night was my birthday and I got stupid. Please forgive
me."

"Please, I will call you before noon, and if I can give you lobster rangoon to
make up for my horrible behavior and save you from airport food, I'll feel
better. Please. It would mean so much."

Cecilia. Such a name.

Brian had an aunt named Cecilia who went crazy during one long and deeply cold
winter. Used an ax on her son the day after Brian went back to college. But
this one wasn't his aunt.

So he waited ten minutes until the hotel phone rang. "Hello."

"It's Cecelia. Did you get my letter?"

"Yes. And don't worry about last night. I've got to get to the airport. Maybe
next time I'm in town." 

"Aw, I'm just cutting up the lobsters! Please at least come by? I would like to
give you something more .... "

The male sexual drive is a relentless, stupid thing. All it took was the
implication to set the images of cock sucking, ass fucking, deep vaginal
penetration in control. "Sure. I'll call a cab, be there in 45, we can shake
hands and go away friendly."

"Okay!" Cecilia said. Then she gave her address, it was repeated, and the
connection ended.

***

She greeted Brian in a small ranch-style two bedroom house, Her seduction
started with the rangoon. Cecilia had bought a very mild horseradish sauce she
claimed was perfect for seafood. She had packed a paper bag with the deep-fried
things, to tide Brian over on the long flight, and he took a sample bite just
to tell her how good they were. Then go.

The rangoon was perfect.The horseradish tingled. His tongue went numb.

Within seconds Brian was a lifeless marrionette. "I got this dip fro South
America," Sh said. "Isn't it good? Now I'm going to bite off your dick and let
you watch it age like your beloved steaks."

Brian wanted to beg, My god, My dick! His voice didn't work. Instead he drooled
and moaned. He felt his lungs and heart slowing and knew death was soon. He
didn't want to die, but he didn't want to be maimed. Given the choice, Brian
would rather have died.

***

When he cracked his eyes open enough for the light to make deep red swirls in
his vision, Brian's first thought was, "Thank god, I'm alive."

The first think he saw was his dick in Cecilia's mouth. She was grinning. Brian
saw her teeth clamp and tug and chew. Blood was all over. There was no feeling.
Brian was numb from shock as well as drug.

***

It seemed like weeks he spent with arms bound in her closet. She gave lobster
every day, in her deadening sauce. Anything was better than the pain. Brian
could sometimes see the outline of his cock hanging near from a fishing hook.
He recognized the scent of aging meat.

One day she opened her closet door and told Brian he had to get weaned from her
drugs or he would be addicted. "Who cares?" he said. He didn't see her for a
very long time after that.

***

Whatever it was, this drug took a horrible way out. Brian's sweat smelled like
old fish. He couldn't help but piss and shit all over the place ... it was
explosive. This wasn't death; it was torture.

***

Cecilia slammed the door open and untied Brian's knotted wrists. He fell to his
knees, ignoring the filth on the floor.  "Look down," she said.

He did. His penis was there. Brian still couldn't feel anything, but there it
was, hanging limply between his legs. Brian was weeping and fell over, tried to
catch himself but his arms weren't working. He broke his nose and snot from
crying so hard made him sound like a donkey, but Brian didn't care. She tried
to pick him up a couple times and drag him up the stairs, but 200 pounds and no
body function makes a heavy load. She had to leave me on the floor overnight.

***

Very quietly, as much quiet as he could find, Brian pushed himself up the
stairs with both legs and one arm. The other was still dragging behind. He
could smell that cold fish sweat covering his body. He weighed the odds and
honestly didn't think he would be about to accomplish much. There was a lot of
thumping going on.

Until he made the second landing. The numbness went away quickly and was
replaced by the same tingle Brian felt when she first gave him the drug, except
a lot more painful.

He tried hard not to thrash. Every muscle in his body went tense, and then came
an incredible warmth. Slowly he experimented with rising and found strength.
Brian's toes made no noise up the remaining stairs. He felt a power he had
never before experienced. He caught her scent behind a door and crashed it
down.

Cecilia was in the moonlight with covers to her chin. Brian leapt and laughed
as her fake tits wagged from beneath her sheet. He easily yanked her over by
giving a firm tug on her right arm.. Brian's dick seemed to grow into her
asshole. She was tight and dry and screamed exactly twice.

That's how Cecelia came to rent Brian's closet. She has no real job, yet
somehow pays the rent.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+