Chapter Nine: Desires of the Flesh

Rough, restricting ropes. That was the first sensation that drifted to her mind
when she allowed her eyes to finally open. Obviously she was still in her bed, though it
felt quite different. She could easily feel the silken sheets beneath her bare back, but that
did not explain her immobile legs and arms.

Sarah fluttered her eyes a bit, trying to force them to adjust to the sudden invasion
of harsh sunlight. She had not remembered the day being so bright. In fact, if her memory
served her, the sky had been quite overcast and foggy during the previous evening, not to
mention it being dark as pitch when she had at last found her way into the comfortable
bed.

She craned her head to the left, but saw only a wall and the side of the massive
bed. To the right, the rest of her room, lacking only her suitcase, which had been leaning
against her dresser since she had arrived. Now it was nowhere to be seen. Sarah decided,
however, that it could very well have been placed elsewhere, and by anybody.

She struggled to raise up, and see what else had changed while she slept.
However, despite her valiant efforts, Sarah only succeeded in scratchy her wrists, rather
painfully at that. The wounds that had only recently been stitched throbbed relentlessly,
and she knew at once that warm blood had begun to ooze once again, staining the fresh
bandages.

"Hello?" she called, though her voice was raspy and weak, far different from the
powerful thing it normally was.

There was no answer, and she was at once able to understand just how eerily quiet
the mansion was. There was absolutely no movement coming from any room, floor, or
even outside. It felt as if she had been placed into a bubble, far from her own kind. Sarah
shivered and struggled with her feet, leaving her pained wrists to lie limp.

She at last relented, and rested her fatigued body. She was not as strong as she
once had been, through the course of the debilitating day prior. Once again she looked
around, but found nothing that would inform her of something wrong. Her eyes turned to
her feet, and she could barely see the thick ropes, if she strained her neck upwards and
lifted only enough so as not to put pressure against the reinjured wounds on her wrists.

Her eyes widened as a sudden realization stole over her. She was not clothed as
she had been upon cuddling down into the warm bed. In fact, Sarah doubted that she had
ever owned anything like what she now saw on her body. She squirmed again, but this
time embarrassment and modesty drove her actions.

She wore a silken shift, of sorts. It plunged low, dangerously low in the back, for
as she had previously noted, she could feel the silken sheets beneath her, against bare
flesh. In the front, the neckline was not any more comforting. It scooped quite a distance
and ended in an intricate network of lacing that made a peek-a-boo streak down to her
belly, only barely avoiding certain other areas.

It rested against her thighs, extremely short for her taste. In fact, the entire
ensemble was uncomfortable, and she could only hope that someone would come to help
her soon. Yet, she had begun to believe that perhaps she could be in some trouble,
considering that she was tied, and clothed quite differently from when she last
remembered.

Sarah bit her quivering lip against the tears and shrieks of help that threatened to
break free. Still, she could not help but sob, and soon did not care if anyone heard or not.
She simply could not stand to be left alone any longer, wondering what would happen to
her, and when it would occur.

"Where is my king?" a young, frightened voice asked within her mind.

Sarah herself was perhaps the most startled at the appearance of such a question,
and coming from herself. Though it had felt quite detached when she heard it, or rather
thought it. She was not even sure to whom she was referring. Certainly the inquiry had
nothing to do with Jareth!

"Such terrible dreams, for such innocence," a silken voice purred from nearby.

Sarah blinked away the blurring tears and turned to see who had entered, and if
they were friend or foe. At once her spirits brightened. Leaning against the bed post, with
his arms crossed over his chest, was Peter. A tender smile rested on his lips as he looked
down at her. The next instant the smile faded to nothing, only seriousness and a strange
dancing light hidden in his eyes.

"Peter?" Sarah asked carefully, pulling against the ropes that bound her ankles so
that he might see what sort of predicament she was in.

At that he did turn his gaze to her, and the ropes that kept her to the bed. His gaze
snaked over her legs, to the shocking lingerie, and finally graced her enough to meet her
eyes. Sarah was utterly horrified and narrowed her eyes in anger.

"Anger, my dear? I thought you had enjoyed our relations earlier," Peter remarked
as he strolled casually nearer to her, all the while catching passing glimpses of revealed
flesh.

Sarah lost her thoughts of pain that would be inflicted upon her old injuries, should
she move, and fought against the constraints. She raged in anger and hate, yanking
violently forward so as to strike at this man who had played her. She kicked at him,
growling as if a wild animal ready to attack once it broke free from the cage.

"How dare you!? Let me out, now! Bastard!! Peter, untie me!" Sarah yelled, all
the while flailing against the ropes.

Peter merely laughed. His tawny hair flipping back, as if caught in a breeze, one
that was not present. His features took on such an air of evil, one that she was surprised
she had not noticed earlier. Sarah stopped her struggles and breathed deeply, finally
feeling the hot searing agony that ripped through her arms. She cried in pain and blinked
her eyes against the tears that began to flow once more.

"Say your right words," Peter whispered, his mouth so close to her ear.

Sarah snapped her cold stare towards him and bit at his face. Yet, he had the
reflexes of a cat, and quickly pulled away. His laughter flared into such that rivaled
insanity. Sarah allowed herself a single deep breath and then forced the words to come in
all the power with which she had yearned to beat this man whom she had dared to
consider a friend.

"You have no power over me!" she exclaimed, and at once the room filled with
brilliant white light.

The illumination soothed her wounds, those newly formed from the harsh abrasive
rope, and the deepening gashes in her inflamed wrists. Sarah laid her head back on the
pillow and closed her burning eyes. Though the light felt so very delicious, it pained her
poor eyes to gaze at the whiteness for too great a time. She was happy to merely allow
the delicate licks of sweetness to calm her nerves and tend to her injuries.

All too soon the sensation faded. Though she could still feel something, some
tender touch along her cheek. It was so very soft, velveteen almost, and almost forced
Sarah to think that the light had decided to focus on one stray spot. However, she knew
better than to believe that fantasy.

She snapped open her eyes and at once was met with a intense gaze, cold as ice
and warm as molten fire. Both eyes, though so entirely different in hue, shone with a
strange mysterious magic that burned throughout the entire being that now looked at her.
Sarah shivered, and at once realized that she remained in the same scant nightgarment she
had earlier noticed.

"How dare you infest my life again!" Sarah spat viscously, attempting in vain to
break free from the ever restricting ropes.

Jareth allowed a sly grin to pass over his features as he listened to her threatening
voice. Yet, it was hard to not catch the slightest hint of a hitch in her anger. Just as his
hand graced her bare flesh, running a finger across her arm, she stopped and gasped. He
withdrew from her side and strode quickly into the center of the room. His cream-colored
blousy sleeves rippled in a sudden breeze, gusting through the open window.

Jareth spun about on his heels and fixed Sarah with a cold glare. Still her face was
flushed from the sense of being clothed in such a bare minimal amount of material, while
the Goblin King remained near at hand. His eyes wandered only briefly to enjoy the sight,
and then returned to meet her, now angered face.

"Beauty such as yours should never be taken from this world, sweet Sarah. Why
choose such an abrupt end to this interesting existence?" Jareth questioned, entirely
ignoring what had been said previously to him.

Sarah struggled a bit against the ropes, finding them crafted from the finest velvet.
It caressed her, causing traces of gooseflesh to form over already enticed flesh. Her heart
beat quickened and her breathing deepened, despite what her mind told her. Her body
was helpless to feel these needs, these wants.

"What have you done to Peter?" she asked, though her voice lacked any true
conviction.

Jareth shrugged in response. He never intended to answer such a useless question.
It was obvious that Sarah felt no true deep feeling for the normal man. After all, who
stood a chance when compared to Jareth, the Goblin King himself? Certainly not some
half-witted writer/ eccentric millionaire.

"Why the concern? Surely you don't believe this interest you have found in him,
love?" Jareth's voice rose in a questioning form.

Sarah bit back any foul remarks that rose to her mind. She reminded herself that
control had topped the Goblin King before, and she could easily best him again, even
when she was forced to do so in an entirely suggestive position. She knew that her
appearance had had an effect on Jareth as well, for she could see his anxiousness to be rid
of the pointless conversation surrounding Peter and on to more 'interesting' topics.

"Jealous, Goblin King?" Sarah inquired, pouting her lips to mock his juvenile
behavior.

Jareth merely smirked at her insult and took a single, agonizingly slow step
forward, and closer to the bed. His eyes deepened in their wild natures, as if a storm of
mass proportions grew and raged on in both. Waves churned within unruly sapphire
depths, while flashes of lightening and crackling fire remained sealed in the other.

"Perhaps you have merely searched out some man to throw those pent-up
emotions upon. How long has it been Sarah, since you have felt the skipping beats of
your heart, as lips search out your own?" Jareth asked, his voice lowering to a truly
intoxicating level, that swept across her skin as gently as the light had done moments
earlier.

She swallowed, afraid of what would follow. If Jareth had pounced at that
moment, she would not have fought a bit. Instead she would have welcomed the feel of
his heartbeat racing along against hers, and his lips, hungering for passion, tracing lines of
fire across her face. The image that came to mind nearly drove her mad and she forced
herself to throw it aside and focus on the predicament in which she currently found herself.

Jareth stopped, only a single step from the bedside. She looked at him, her eyes
noting certain subtleties that had since then gone unnoticed. Sarah watched his golden
luxurious mane of hair, as if it were a tropical liquid flowing about his ethereal face. He
wore only a simple poet's shirt and tight pants that crafted to the form of his legs. She
could not strain her eyes enough to see, but decided that he probably wore the usual
boots, that reached nearly to his knee.

"When have you ever allowed desire to dictate your life, to throw everything away
for one heated night of fantasies? Whom has been allowed to touch that tender skin,
caresses that drive one from their mind? When Sarah, when have you given into the
desires of the flesh?" Jareth asked, punctuating each question by bending nearer to her.

With the final pounding inquiry he dropped to his knees beside the bed and ran his
hands across her bare arms. Sarah gasped, unable to control anything, even her mind. His
words had impacted her as he had known they would all along. Still she could hear his
accented voice, asking about such personal things, and causing such a delicious and
overwhelming need to show its presence in her soul.

He smiled and leaned in, quickly so as to act upon impulse. Jareth's lips fit against
hers, parting them with the deft touch of his tongue, so as to deepen their intensity.
Everywhere a sense of hunger for once allowed to rage freely in Sarah's system, exploded
into the open. She returned his kisses, begging for more, for him to cease the toying way
he insisted on treating her, and fulfill her darkest dreams.

With skills of one trained in such arts of lust, he rose to his feet, never once
removing his intoxicating lips from hers. One hand, now free from the gloves he had
previously worn, traced a path down her arm, and over the once new bandages, to where
the silken ropes held her in place. In a single magical second she found herself free, and
instantly wrapped her arms around his body, that had leaned over her.

He moved again with the subtleties and fluid air of a cat. In a instant he was atop
her, deepening the kisses and stroking her face, down her arm, and over her waist. Sarah
plunged her hands into his hair, adoring the silken feel that caressed her so tenderly. Her
stomach twisted and turned, and burned with a strange, almost sick sensation, that would
continue until they had fulfilled these needs of lust.

His other hand, coursing with unbridles magic, touched her thigh, only just below
where her garment ended. A strange giddiness rose in her depths of her stomach, and she
urged Jareth to continue, to do what he so pleased. She no longer cared what hell he had
put her in, and then what she would now allow him to have.

He stopped, his palm resting so sickeningly close to infinite pleasure. However, he
could go no further. With great strength Jareth rose away from her, noting her broken
and troubled look. She yearned for this, almost as much as him, but this was not the way,
not in such falsehoods as a fantasy.

"Why must you torture me with these dreams that are crafted by that part of you
who wishes for this to occur? I know that, should I come to you, there would be no
chance. Leave this place, Sarah, and decide what you wish from me, at least grant me
that," Jareth whispered, so close to her ear.

He then backed away, Sarah watching from her statue-like position, save her
hitching chest trying in desperation to catch her breath. She did not understand him in the
least, but knew that something was not right. Something was different that she had not
noticed earlier.

Jareth simply faded away, as if floating off into the thin air. She watched, eyes
widened in shock at his sudden disappearance. With his absence, entered a nearly
forgotten sound, that of a woman sobbing somewhere in the distance. Sarah recalled the
first dream, upon the plane, where she had heard that crying for such a long duration. She
rose to a sitting position and looked about, but saw only a slight silver glimmer from
behind the blowing curtain.

Then, the entire room seemed fade the same as Jareth. Soon there was nothing to
see, nor was there anything to experience. She was held by the weaves of black night, and
so allowed her mind to be at ease.

There were no more dreams that night.