A Beautiful Day in the Five Points
I lived high in the slums of the Five Points, in a skeletal and filthy counterpart to the modern - day apartment. In the beginning, I was surrounded by the screams of children and howling of drunks whose moans penetrated the air in their own unique tragedy. A month and an evening with the Butcher later, the sounds and surrounding were merely the marks that could distinguish between the Hell of everyday living and the heavenly moments I had with the Butcher.
On my way to the tavern, I passed the Nightwalker's saloon, and thought about how I once considered joining them in their whorehouse, smaller and quieter than the apartment, with the superficial orgasms of pug ugly Johns replacing the hungry screams of the desperate children of drunks. But there's something about joining a sect like that of a whorehouse - you unintentionally attach strings between yourself and that sect which, at any moment, can be used against you. It was for that paranoia that I severed my ties with the Catholic Church, left Ireland, and whored independently. Red hair, so soft that looking at it left you with feathers for bones inside. Fidlam Bens---Fidlam Bens---How I fucking hated Jenny the Bludget. She was such a god damn Fidlam Bens. She would steal from her own mother, that piece of shite. It was amazing how I simultaneously despised her, and yet revered her. She never touched me, with the assumption that I owned nothing. I hated her because she had something, without having to steal it, before I even realized that I craved it.
The Butcher's Heart. The Butcher had watched Jenny since she was a child, and knew her - and loved her - for all that she was. She had at least fifteen years ahead of me-fifteen years of trust, loyalty, and physical compensation that I could only gaze upon in awe.
What I hated most about Jenny was this: despite my vicious jealousy of her, she also had this ability to turn my anger into pure reverence. I could tell, even in my distance, that she was meant for something greater than the Five Points, or anything she had been given so far in her life - I dared to believe that she deserved something even the Butcher could not give her. It was something all girls needed, but, as one of life's tragedies, was not always received. "You're the new lass-I heard you took a brick to the head when you came off the boat." Jenny shamelessly let her fingers brush against the scar on my forehead. I hadn't felt the gentleness of another female since my mother bid me goodbye. I knew this isn't what Mother wanted, but knowing the damnation of being Irish, she would not be surprised.
"Aye, I did. Kept it too, in case the gentleman wanted it back."
"A good sense of humor ," she laughed, "That's what we need here."
"If it's free, why not?"
"Oh nothing's free child, I should know."
"You're Jenny, aren't ya'?" She pulled me into an alley nearby.
"Aye, I am," she whispered. "And you're Shannon - The Butcher told me about you."
Blood rushed to me face and flooded my sight. "Did he?"
"He's fond of you, and I'm actually a bit jealous of the way he talks about you."
"Well," I pleaded nervously, "You shouldn't be. I was just fresh meat to him."
"No, the only other girl he's ever remembered by name was me." Her eyes were piercing straight at me. I had to catch my breath.
"Jenny, I-"
"He wants to see you again, and so do I. I want to see what makes you so precious, so desirable." Into my ear, she breathed: "I want you to do to me what you did to the Butcher. I want to remember you as he does, to blush when I speak your name."
"When? Where? How much?"
"Tonight. At Satan's. Your soul."
When I pulled off her unlaced corset, she turned around, with her hands over a distinct place on her stomach. Her eyes were downcast and her face blushing.
"You can show her, Jenny," mumbled the Butcher, smoking opium in the corner. "She won't hurt you." She looked at me, and her hands slowly pulled away to reveal a pink scar. I moved closer, kneeled down, and instinctively began fingering the mark, feeling it with my dry lips. Once I felt her thin, womanly hands on my head, I kissed the old wound, as though it would bring it back to life.
I wasn't satisfied-I wanted to taste more of her skin, her body, her femininity, such delicate and lovely things that were, despite what she told me before, free of charge. I followed the scar in my kissing motion upwards, leading to her breasts. I was amazed at how smooth her skin was, considering how tough and fierce she could be.
Once my lips reached the nipple, I circled it with my tongue until she finally exhaled, gasping my name. Leaning towards the other nipple, I moved my hands over to her backside and clenched. Her squeal gave me confidence, as my teeth gently tapped her nipple into hardening.
"Have you done this before," asked a nervous Jenny.
"Only with myself," I replied earnestly. The Butcher and Jenny could not help but laugh at this. In slight shame, I buried my face into her crotch, to hear her gasp.
"Well," the Butcher mused, "She doesn't waste any time."
Gently, I extended my tongue to rub her, being careful not to be too harsh. I had learned, through the drunken clumsiness of the johns, how to properly please a woman. Through myself, I learned how to please another woman, better than any man could, I mused to myself.
I kept my tongue soft and wet, but moving swiftly and attentively in response to her groans. I wondered why I hadn't done this with any other lassies, here or in Ireland. Oftentimes, values and virtue will take a backseat to a jolly good time, regardless of who's fucking who.
God, she tasted so good, that bitter yet delicious and distinctive scent of woman was far more attractive to me than the cold, offensive scent of male seed (with, of course, the exception of the Butcher).
"Sir," I said to the Butcher with nervous giggles spurting from my awkward grin, "Come and join us. I feel guilty having all the fun with you merely watching." He walked over without hesitation, handing me the opium pipe. As I inhaled the heavenly poison, my heart relished in the sight of the benevolent king, planting loving kisses on the mouth of my new best friend. I almost squealed in awe at the exciting beautiful sight of her luscious body being carried into the bed where the Butcher and I were to ravish her without mercy. Before anything else, I ran to the Butcher and begged him to unlace my corset. "My god," I said, "I don't think I can stand it-I need her now!" The Butcher chuckled as he promptly untied the bow.
"Are you going to charge her Jenny? She seems aggressive."
"No," she cooed, as she luxuriated on the bed like a Roman goddess. "Her talents are payment enough." I never felt so loved by another woman as I did when she said that.
"I love you, Jenny," I giggled, and looked up at the Butcher. "And I love you too, sir." Like an anxious child, I wriggled out of the loose corset, pulling off the rest of the fabrics and jumping eagerly onto Jenny. The Butcher was beaming.
"We're one big, happy goddamn family," he said. We laughed, because like most of the stories and jokes the other johns had to share, that was both funny and (hopefully) true. After a brief second of recognizing the childish and feverish desire in each other's eyes, we pressed our lips together. I felt her pull my hair as she crawled on top of me, performing acts that I had only before imagined. As her tongue played with mine, I felt her supple and skillful hands ventured into the dark wetness. Quickly, she touched me and pleasured me to the point where I cowered underneath the power of her expertise. My body became trembling yet immobile, with an ever - increasing inner scream of pleasure building inside of me. Her fingers inside me began to move faster and faster, and the urge to burst became increasingly apparent. As I moaned to extend the moment by releasing tension, I looked over to the Butcher as he was enthusiastically stroking his staff as he watched us. Noticing my attention, he reached over and stroked Jenny's supple arse, his fingers trailing the inside of her thighs. I noticed, as Jenny and I were enthusiastically moaning and groaning, the Butcher was drooling and fingering something in his side pocket. "Join us," Jenny and I sighed in orgasmic ecstasy. "We can't take it anymore!" As I was half comatose from the overwhelming pleasure, Jenny guided the Butcher to enter our embrace. I overheard her mumbling something about 'a toy' that she desired to play with, and I saw the Butcher nod, giving us both a dirty grin. Harshly, the Butcher turned me onto my stomach, and could feel both the Butcher and Jenny giving me playful slaps on my bum and laughing. The Butcher instructed me to position myself like an erect table, as I felt Jenny's fingernails stroke the backs of my thighs and creating the wetness again. Suddenly, I saw the Butcher's hand thrust what appeared to be a porcelain, double - headed cock in my face. "Put one end in your mouth, Shannon," he gasped. "Jenny, move over to her face." As she did, she looked pleasingly at the porcelain toy in my mouth, as I felt like an idiotic stuffed pig, like I had seen in the magazines that depicted idyllic Christmas dinners. She edged into my face, positioning the toy into her moist cunt, trailing her fingers in my hair. Suddenly, I felt the Butcher's giant cock slide into my wet pussy, and begin pumping in and out, as I began to whine and moan, moving the toy with my mouth in and out of Jenny's twat. Enthusiastically, she began to coo and moan, as the Butcher clamped his hands onto my backside, refusing to let go. "Jesus, Shannon," the Butcher gasped, as he increased his speed and volume. Jenny's hands forced my head to go in deeper, harder and more quickly, in order to satisfy her. I myself was at the brink of passion, both imagining and participating in this orgy simultaneously. My pussy had become flushed and soaking wet, as the Butcher's cock was thrust into me, faster and faster. "My, God," Jenny shrieked, "I can't take it any more!" She took the toy out of my mouth, and rolled over to the other side of the bed, where she properly pleased herself. As for me, the Butcher pulled himself out of me, then rolled me onto my back, flung my legs onto his shoulders, and he continued pleasing me. The look in the Butcher's eyes became mysteriously intense, as our mutual orgasm was building. "Jenny," he suddenly gasped, "Open a vein!" Without having stopped playing with the toy, she pulled out a knife from the Butcher's belt and- "Oh God!" I screamed. Jenny had cut my ankle, and proceeded to drink the blood that poured from the excited veins. The Butcher, sharing the blood with Jenny, began to dramatically increase his speed, faster and faster, until he finally burst inside me. I collapsed in exhaustion, holding my ankle as I watched Jenny continue fucking herself with the toy and drinking my ankle.
The elation from the opium was gone now, and my strings were now tied to these beautiful demons.
I lived high in the slums of the Five Points, in a skeletal and filthy counterpart to the modern - day apartment. In the beginning, I was surrounded by the screams of children and howling of drunks whose moans penetrated the air in their own unique tragedy. A month and an evening with the Butcher later, the sounds and surrounding were merely the marks that could distinguish between the Hell of everyday living and the heavenly moments I had with the Butcher.
On my way to the tavern, I passed the Nightwalker's saloon, and thought about how I once considered joining them in their whorehouse, smaller and quieter than the apartment, with the superficial orgasms of pug ugly Johns replacing the hungry screams of the desperate children of drunks. But there's something about joining a sect like that of a whorehouse - you unintentionally attach strings between yourself and that sect which, at any moment, can be used against you. It was for that paranoia that I severed my ties with the Catholic Church, left Ireland, and whored independently. Red hair, so soft that looking at it left you with feathers for bones inside. Fidlam Bens---Fidlam Bens---How I fucking hated Jenny the Bludget. She was such a god damn Fidlam Bens. She would steal from her own mother, that piece of shite. It was amazing how I simultaneously despised her, and yet revered her. She never touched me, with the assumption that I owned nothing. I hated her because she had something, without having to steal it, before I even realized that I craved it.
The Butcher's Heart. The Butcher had watched Jenny since she was a child, and knew her - and loved her - for all that she was. She had at least fifteen years ahead of me-fifteen years of trust, loyalty, and physical compensation that I could only gaze upon in awe.
What I hated most about Jenny was this: despite my vicious jealousy of her, she also had this ability to turn my anger into pure reverence. I could tell, even in my distance, that she was meant for something greater than the Five Points, or anything she had been given so far in her life - I dared to believe that she deserved something even the Butcher could not give her. It was something all girls needed, but, as one of life's tragedies, was not always received. "You're the new lass-I heard you took a brick to the head when you came off the boat." Jenny shamelessly let her fingers brush against the scar on my forehead. I hadn't felt the gentleness of another female since my mother bid me goodbye. I knew this isn't what Mother wanted, but knowing the damnation of being Irish, she would not be surprised.
"Aye, I did. Kept it too, in case the gentleman wanted it back."
"A good sense of humor ," she laughed, "That's what we need here."
"If it's free, why not?"
"Oh nothing's free child, I should know."
"You're Jenny, aren't ya'?" She pulled me into an alley nearby.
"Aye, I am," she whispered. "And you're Shannon - The Butcher told me about you."
Blood rushed to me face and flooded my sight. "Did he?"
"He's fond of you, and I'm actually a bit jealous of the way he talks about you."
"Well," I pleaded nervously, "You shouldn't be. I was just fresh meat to him."
"No, the only other girl he's ever remembered by name was me." Her eyes were piercing straight at me. I had to catch my breath.
"Jenny, I-"
"He wants to see you again, and so do I. I want to see what makes you so precious, so desirable." Into my ear, she breathed: "I want you to do to me what you did to the Butcher. I want to remember you as he does, to blush when I speak your name."
"When? Where? How much?"
"Tonight. At Satan's. Your soul."
When I pulled off her unlaced corset, she turned around, with her hands over a distinct place on her stomach. Her eyes were downcast and her face blushing.
"You can show her, Jenny," mumbled the Butcher, smoking opium in the corner. "She won't hurt you." She looked at me, and her hands slowly pulled away to reveal a pink scar. I moved closer, kneeled down, and instinctively began fingering the mark, feeling it with my dry lips. Once I felt her thin, womanly hands on my head, I kissed the old wound, as though it would bring it back to life.
I wasn't satisfied-I wanted to taste more of her skin, her body, her femininity, such delicate and lovely things that were, despite what she told me before, free of charge. I followed the scar in my kissing motion upwards, leading to her breasts. I was amazed at how smooth her skin was, considering how tough and fierce she could be.
Once my lips reached the nipple, I circled it with my tongue until she finally exhaled, gasping my name. Leaning towards the other nipple, I moved my hands over to her backside and clenched. Her squeal gave me confidence, as my teeth gently tapped her nipple into hardening.
"Have you done this before," asked a nervous Jenny.
"Only with myself," I replied earnestly. The Butcher and Jenny could not help but laugh at this. In slight shame, I buried my face into her crotch, to hear her gasp.
"Well," the Butcher mused, "She doesn't waste any time."
Gently, I extended my tongue to rub her, being careful not to be too harsh. I had learned, through the drunken clumsiness of the johns, how to properly please a woman. Through myself, I learned how to please another woman, better than any man could, I mused to myself.
I kept my tongue soft and wet, but moving swiftly and attentively in response to her groans. I wondered why I hadn't done this with any other lassies, here or in Ireland. Oftentimes, values and virtue will take a backseat to a jolly good time, regardless of who's fucking who.
God, she tasted so good, that bitter yet delicious and distinctive scent of woman was far more attractive to me than the cold, offensive scent of male seed (with, of course, the exception of the Butcher).
"Sir," I said to the Butcher with nervous giggles spurting from my awkward grin, "Come and join us. I feel guilty having all the fun with you merely watching." He walked over without hesitation, handing me the opium pipe. As I inhaled the heavenly poison, my heart relished in the sight of the benevolent king, planting loving kisses on the mouth of my new best friend. I almost squealed in awe at the exciting beautiful sight of her luscious body being carried into the bed where the Butcher and I were to ravish her without mercy. Before anything else, I ran to the Butcher and begged him to unlace my corset. "My god," I said, "I don't think I can stand it-I need her now!" The Butcher chuckled as he promptly untied the bow.
"Are you going to charge her Jenny? She seems aggressive."
"No," she cooed, as she luxuriated on the bed like a Roman goddess. "Her talents are payment enough." I never felt so loved by another woman as I did when she said that.
"I love you, Jenny," I giggled, and looked up at the Butcher. "And I love you too, sir." Like an anxious child, I wriggled out of the loose corset, pulling off the rest of the fabrics and jumping eagerly onto Jenny. The Butcher was beaming.
"We're one big, happy goddamn family," he said. We laughed, because like most of the stories and jokes the other johns had to share, that was both funny and (hopefully) true. After a brief second of recognizing the childish and feverish desire in each other's eyes, we pressed our lips together. I felt her pull my hair as she crawled on top of me, performing acts that I had only before imagined. As her tongue played with mine, I felt her supple and skillful hands ventured into the dark wetness. Quickly, she touched me and pleasured me to the point where I cowered underneath the power of her expertise. My body became trembling yet immobile, with an ever - increasing inner scream of pleasure building inside of me. Her fingers inside me began to move faster and faster, and the urge to burst became increasingly apparent. As I moaned to extend the moment by releasing tension, I looked over to the Butcher as he was enthusiastically stroking his staff as he watched us. Noticing my attention, he reached over and stroked Jenny's supple arse, his fingers trailing the inside of her thighs. I noticed, as Jenny and I were enthusiastically moaning and groaning, the Butcher was drooling and fingering something in his side pocket. "Join us," Jenny and I sighed in orgasmic ecstasy. "We can't take it anymore!" As I was half comatose from the overwhelming pleasure, Jenny guided the Butcher to enter our embrace. I overheard her mumbling something about 'a toy' that she desired to play with, and I saw the Butcher nod, giving us both a dirty grin. Harshly, the Butcher turned me onto my stomach, and could feel both the Butcher and Jenny giving me playful slaps on my bum and laughing. The Butcher instructed me to position myself like an erect table, as I felt Jenny's fingernails stroke the backs of my thighs and creating the wetness again. Suddenly, I saw the Butcher's hand thrust what appeared to be a porcelain, double - headed cock in my face. "Put one end in your mouth, Shannon," he gasped. "Jenny, move over to her face." As she did, she looked pleasingly at the porcelain toy in my mouth, as I felt like an idiotic stuffed pig, like I had seen in the magazines that depicted idyllic Christmas dinners. She edged into my face, positioning the toy into her moist cunt, trailing her fingers in my hair. Suddenly, I felt the Butcher's giant cock slide into my wet pussy, and begin pumping in and out, as I began to whine and moan, moving the toy with my mouth in and out of Jenny's twat. Enthusiastically, she began to coo and moan, as the Butcher clamped his hands onto my backside, refusing to let go. "Jesus, Shannon," the Butcher gasped, as he increased his speed and volume. Jenny's hands forced my head to go in deeper, harder and more quickly, in order to satisfy her. I myself was at the brink of passion, both imagining and participating in this orgy simultaneously. My pussy had become flushed and soaking wet, as the Butcher's cock was thrust into me, faster and faster. "My, God," Jenny shrieked, "I can't take it any more!" She took the toy out of my mouth, and rolled over to the other side of the bed, where she properly pleased herself. As for me, the Butcher pulled himself out of me, then rolled me onto my back, flung my legs onto his shoulders, and he continued pleasing me. The look in the Butcher's eyes became mysteriously intense, as our mutual orgasm was building. "Jenny," he suddenly gasped, "Open a vein!" Without having stopped playing with the toy, she pulled out a knife from the Butcher's belt and- "Oh God!" I screamed. Jenny had cut my ankle, and proceeded to drink the blood that poured from the excited veins. The Butcher, sharing the blood with Jenny, began to dramatically increase his speed, faster and faster, until he finally burst inside me. I collapsed in exhaustion, holding my ankle as I watched Jenny continue fucking herself with the toy and drinking my ankle.
The elation from the opium was gone now, and my strings were now tied to these beautiful demons.
