Ever Rest at Evernew

Too tired. Too tired to care. Craving for the sensation of the pulsation at my neck, the feeding of my lover, giving over everything I had, my very essence of life, to my lover.

Holding there, waiting to harden again, he lowered his face to mine.

"I'm going to give you peace now," he murmured, his smooth baritone voice honey to my soul. "It has been glorious, but it's time."

"Yes, take me to heaven," I whispered back.

He laughed, a low, guttural laugh. "Just so," he said. "You know, you were the best. Over the centuries you still were the best. I couldn't resist; I couldn't space you out. I had to have all of you at once. Your father was good, but you are the best, and you know why?"

"No, why?" I murmur, not really caring why, but he seemed to want to tell me. And whatever Philip wanted, I wanted as well. Anything, as long as he took me to heaven again, let me dance and float on the clouds to the sensation of his suckling at my throat. As long as he brought me to the bright light, the heavenly choir, the fence.

"Because you are a priest, of course. Taking the godly and bringing it low. Making it knuckle, bow, and scrape to me. Begging me for my attentions. I couldn't prolong that. I had to use you in one orgy of victory over heaven. The dark forces winning."

"I was never a very good priest, you know. I'm not sure I count for much there."

It wasn't the right thing to say to him—at least he obviously didn't think so. But I was beyond rationalizing or gauging what I was saying. Still, it was the simple truth. I now fully realized it. I would be no loss to the church. I wanted him to stop talking and to go back to fucking and sucking me. And I could feel him going hard again inside me. Raising his anger had helped make him hard. He began to fuck me hard. Thrusting deep, cruelly.

It was what I wanted, though. The only penance I knew to offer. He was leaning in, his face close to mine again, a hard leer on his face.

I turned my head to the side, exposing my neck to him. Offering him the ultimate sacrifice. It was the first time I had offered my vein to him. His eyes opened wide, and I gave him the beatific smile I had learned to bestow on parishioners at the seminary.

"Your sins are forgiven, my son," I murmured.

His head dove down, his teeth cruelly digging into my neck. The sucking, hard and cruel, commenced immediately. This was it. We both knew that. Painfully, slowly, I moved my hands down to his buttocks and held them there as he thrust hard up inside me, again and again, angrily, insistently. I grasped his buttocks to me and weakly moved my pelvis with him, wanting him to know I accepted him to the end.

I was floating again, off toward heaven again. At peace, entirely satiated and at one with Philip's body, every part of his body synchronized with mine in the working, the draining of mine. I felt my ejaculate spread up his belly. My hands fell away from his buttocks, my body fully his now to do what he wished. I stretched my arms out straight from my body, my body completely open to him.

"Take me, I am fully thine."

I heard the music, coming in gently over the sound and feel of suckling at my neck. My ears were buzzing underneath the sound of the music, which was fading away. I felt myself totally relaxing, beginning to fall away from the fence, hearing the sucking sounds of his mouth, the slap, slap of his thrusting cock.

The howl as he released his seed. But a different sort of howl—more forlorn, ending in pain and frustration, rather than one of victory.

I felt so at peace, so "I don't care," so loving of the release he was providing me, so . . .

* * * *

I was surprised—disappointed—when I woke up and realized I wasn't in heaven—or the other distinct possibility, hell. That wouldn't have surprised me in the least. I was lying on Philip's bed, and daylight was filtering around the edges of the drapes on the window again. Somehow, I had survived the night—unless, of course, this was what heaven—or hell—were like. Wouldn't that be ironic? Heaven—or hell—was Philip's bedroom at Evernew?

I lay there for some time, taking inventory. I was semiparalyzed, but the slow increase in aches and pains—and the sound of my own groans—informed me that I was beginning to regain strength. But I knew I would not survive another night of this. I had no idea why I hadn't passed in the previous night—or maybe the night before that. I'd lost all concept of time. All I knew was pain, and the heightened awareness of how much higher my sexual satisfaction could soar than I ever realized before.

Not that that was doing me much good. It was something to contemplate if I survived another sunrise.

My attention was arrested by the clinking sound approaching up the staircase. I looked down the length of my naked and bruised body and saw the grizzled old driver cum butler walk into the room carrying a tray laden with food on porcelain plates. He lowered the tray to the foot of the bed and went over to the windows, one by one, and pulled the drapes. Blinding light flooded the room.

"I thinks you need to try to eat your fill of this food and rest a while before trying to rise, Massa," he said as he turned and walked over to the side of the bed. There was no sign of judgment in the old man, and, indeed, I presumed that he had seen all, knew all.

"Philip? Master DuCarde?" I managed to croak out. My throat was dry, and I realized that I was ravenously hungry as well as thirsty. How many days had I been on this bed?

"Massa Philip, he done packed up and left before daybreak," the old man said. "I think it be a while before he visits Evernew again." Did I catch a glint of a smile float across the old man's face?

"Left?"

"Yas, sir. And I think you be needin' this back," he said, as he drew my gold cross on the chain out of his pocket and handed it to me. "Sorry. I had to borrow it for a bit last night." The satisfied smile on his face spoke volumes to me. "If I was you, young Massa, I'd be keepin' that closer to me in the future."

I had to admit that he had a good point.