Noir46

The carriage traveled south from Paris throughout the remainder of the night. Erik dozed through the sunrise and the majority of morning as exhaustion, hunger, and the several weeks of hiding from authorities had taken their toll on him.

He slept soundly as the horses trudged on and the movement of the carriage lulled him into a deep sleep. With his mask removed and head propped up against the red velvet interior, he was oblivious to the landscape changing around him. All he needed was the woman sitting beside him.

Overwhelming hunger and a gentle caress finally roused him from sleep. He blinked and gazed at the darkened interior, finding The Goddess resting up against his side.

"Not much longer," she assured him as she tilted her head back and looked up into his eyes.

He nodded, forcing his eyes to remain open, unwilling to look away from her in fear she would disappear. He struggled to free his arm, which was pinned between his side and her head, so that he could sweep the strands of hair back from her face.

The moment he tucked the strand behind her ear he looked away, appalled by his brazen move. Had he been fully awake he never would have touched her without asking for permission. She was his Goddess in waking hours, though in dreams she was something more.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, ignoring his intimate gesture.

Erik nodded.

"I asked you a question. Are you hungry?"

"Ravenous," he answered, his voice hoarse from sleep.

The Goddess looked at him sharply, her eyes studying his wary gaze. Without breaking eye contact she bent forward and reached into a small bag at her feet. Erik thanked her softly as she handed him another piece of bread wrapped in a cloth.

"Small bites," she reminded him as she passed him a water canteen. Once he was situated she sat back against the opposite wall and sighed.

Erik glanced up. "Thank you," he said again.

The Goddess made no reply. She sat with a look of indifference on her face as she played with the end of her dark hair and watched him tear off a small piece.

While she watched, he consumed the bread loaf slowly, taking sips of water to keep the food soft and his teeth from shifting in his gums. As much as he attempted to make his food last, the bread was gone before his hunger was sated. When he finished The Goddess dug into her bag again.

"Your day will require energy," she said as she opened a small clay jar. Her eyes settled on his again. "If you wish to please me."

He watched with uncertainty as she gave an enigmatic smile in return.

"Do you wish to please me?" she asked.

"Yes." His mouth opened and closed and he swallowed hard. "Goddess."

"You do not wish to call me by my title any longer?" she asked, her eyes narrowed, mouth hardening as she sat back.

Erik shook his head, afraid he would lose her if he didn't retract his words. "No, I do."

"Then you will not hesitate when I speak to you, is that clear?"

He nodded again readily. "Yes, yes, Goddess."

"Very well. For now I shall forgive you." The Goddess offered her hand, showing him her knuckles.

For a moment Erik hesitated before bringing her hand to his lips. When she seemed satisfied she pulled her hand back and dipped her finger into the jar.

Taste," she whispered, holding her finger to his lips.

Erik hesitated, drawing his head back as his gaze switched from her face to her waiting hand.

"I said taste," The Goddess demanded.

Sticky sweetness touched his lips and slid down his tongue though taste was secondary to the surge he felt traveling through his body. He attempted to be as respectful as possible, taking hold of her wrist and licking honey from the end of her finger before turning away, his heart racing.

A thousand fragmented thoughts fought for his mind. He continued to hold her wrist as he stared at the opposite bench, his palms sweaty, his throat dry. A strange mix of desire and shame battled inside of him, wanting to continue and fearing it had gone too far already.

Without a word she pried his fingers away and dipped her index finger into the jar, tempting him again.

"Slowly," she purred, leaning in so close her face was only inches from his. "Very slowly."

His breathing increased as he turned his head and took her fingertip into his mouth and slowly sucked the sugary contents. His eyes slowly closed as he leaned into her, savoring the intimacy of her gesture, hearing her sigh as his tongue swirled around her finger.

When she pulled free his eyes opened again and she smiled at him, a closed-lipped seductive grin that hinted at her pleasure.

"It has been a long night," she said, her voice deep and alluring. "I have not had the pleasure of food."

The Goddess placed the jar high in his lap and sat back, stretching her legs out as she reclined.

"Please me," she said.

The Goddess watched as he fumbled with the jar, sinking a trembling finger into its contents. A thick trail of gold dripped down his finger, which he held impatiently over the jar before moving closer to her.

He swallowed hard, hinting at how desperately he wanted to feel her caress his finger with her lips and tongue.

Her lips parted languidly and his finger disappeared into her mouth, grazing past her teeth, taken in and nurtured by her warm, soft tongue. She released a barely audible sigh that voiced her satisfaction as she gently sucked on his finger.

Erik attempted to stifle a groan, the sensation unlike anything he had felt before. Everything about it was provocative, from the way her eyes fluttered back to the way her body shifted, hips sliding further toward him.

It seemed strange that he had come to a woman he believed a whore so many times but not once experienced the pleasures she offered. He wondered if she had tempted other customers the way she allowed him hints of pleasure that ignited his most primal desires.

The Goddess took Erik's wrist and slowly withdrew his finger from her mouth.

"More," she breathed. "I want more."

He obeyed at once, quickly dipping his finger into the jar and bringing it to her lips again. She worked her tongue up and down his index finger, starting at the tip and ending at the knuckle, gliding his finger in and out of her mouth, nipping him with her teeth and soothing him with lazy sucking motions.

Erik rose slightly from his seat, barely able to control his breathing. He was fascinated and aroused as The Goddess licked her lips and sighed again, finished with him for the time being.

Her gaze left his and centered on the jar resting in his lap. She leisurely reached for the jaw, her hand resting between his legs for a moment. Without intending to he pushed his hips forward, feeling her hands against the part of his body that had woken moments earlier, when she drank honey from his finger and wound his mind around thoughts he had thought long dead.

"Conserve your strength," she suggested as she closed the jar and placed it back into her bag. "You will need it for later."

-o-

Erik squirmed blindly on the ground, breathing in dirt and debris as he inched away on his belly. He could hear the footsteps around him, the shoes crunching over grass and stone as they circled around his bloody and bruised body.

"Do you want the blindfold removed?" he heard someone ask.

"No, not yet," the Sultana answered.

Erik pushed his tongue against his front teeth and tasted blood from the cut in his gums. He used what strength he had left to crawl forward, his efforts labored by his wrists and ankles still bound. A chain connected the manacles at his hands and feet prevented him from raising his hands to his eyes to remove the blindfold.

"Where do you think you will go, Frenchman?" the Sultana asked.

Erik felt her grab a handful of his hair and pull his head back. He stopped instantly, his fingers digging into the soil. Something cold and sharp touched his throat along the pulse, which instantly stopped him from taking another breath.

"Mr. Baleeze won't find his fiancée, will he?" she asked.

Erik gave no reply. He could feel the heat of her body as she knelt over him. He knew if he rolled swiftly to his side he could knock her off balance, though there was little he could do after that. It would give her something to remember him by, he thought cynically.

"It doesn't matter if they find the girl or not," the Sultana said.

Erik felt his body suddenly lifted from the ground by his legs and arms. He struggled a moment before his bruised back touched a hard, flat surface.

"Girish tells me his fiancée was very beautiful," the Sultana continued. "A true Indian princess by all appearances. Tell me, Frenchman, was that what attracted you to her?"

Erik said nothing. Melding with the scent of blood in the air there was something different, something that made his legs stiffen and his heart race.

"I cherish beauty as well, Frenchman," the Sultana said as she walked around him. "My husband purchases fine art from all corners of the world. Do you know what I told him? I told him one day I would like to be a painter."

Erik sucked on his teeth, the taste of blood adding to his growing sickness. His head pounded, muscles constantly throbbing. Beyond being outside, he had no idea where he was. He didn't even know how many of the Sultana's men had participated in his beating.

"Do you know what has prevented me from painting, Frenchman?" the Sultana asked. "Do you know what keeps me from my art?"

Something brushed past his swollen cheek, which made him flinch. The pungent, familiar smell grew nearer, and Erik suddenly took to fighting, writhing back and forth on the table in vain. The chains had grown tighter, his movement restricted completely.

"Until you, I never had a canvas."