Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 13

Hot, wet tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but to no avail. My face was soon soaked with them. There was a free-flowing of tears as my grief overwhelmed me. My stomach roiled and twisted into knots. Lyndsay's mother was one of the dearest and kindest people I had ever met. She was important to me in so many ways, and this pathetic excuse for a human being had just killed her in cold blood.

"You bastard," I could hear my own voice scream out when my ears were finally functional once again.

"Oh, bastard, am I?" Darcy said as he turned his attentions towards me, "I'll make you regret calling me that! Nobody defies a Darcy without paying a hefty price!"

My chest heaved, and I glared at him, and attempted to think of a stinging retort. He was an evil man, and he had just killed someone that I cared about. My outrage temporarily overrode my self-preservation instincts. I would have gladly kicked him in the balls, only he was standing too far away and out of the range of my foot.

And then, Darcy screamed in agonizing pain and fell to the floor.

I was confused at first, and it took me a few seconds to realize what had happened. Darcy had assumed that Mrs. Brie was dead, however he was wrong. And when he turned his back on her, she counterattacked.

I'm not sure, but it appeared as if she broke Darcy's leg with her bare hands.

Mrs. Brie was covered in blood and gore and she crawled over Darcy's prone form. Darcy had dropped his gun and tried to scramble towards the gun and away from his attacker.

"I gave you one chance to end this without further violence," Mrs. Brie growled angrily at Darcy, "and you screwed that up too!"

Darcy screamed and struggled, but Mrs. Brie was clearly stronger than he was. I think she broke his wrists, and I know she broke his nose. She punched him in the face repeatedly. She pounded his face like a blacksmith pounding a piece of red hot metal with a heavy hammer, and by the time she was finished, Darcy's face was an unrecognizable, bloody mess.

"We should go now," Mrs. Brie said as she got up off the floor, "Paul's nearest neighbors aren't exactly close by, but I'm sure at least some of them heard the gunshots. If they haven't called the police already, they will soon. And I don't want to be here when the police arrive."

Mrs. Brie unbuckled my wrists from the leather straps, and I found myself asking, "What the hell just happened here?"

"Save questions for later, Gwen," Mrs. Brie admonished me, "Now it's time for us to run! Go, go, go!"

My clothes had been torn to shreds and discarded on the floor. I'd never be able to wear them again, but I found my purse on the floor just a few inches away. It had my wallet and my phone, and other personal possessions, and I wasn't about to leave any of that behind.

I was emotionally and physically exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse and curl up into a ball, but that wasn't an option. I was told to move; and move quickly.

Mrs. Brie urged me up the stairs and through the upstairs lobby. As she rushed me through the lobby, I couldn't help but notice all the blood and carnage. A least one table had been smashed, and there were at least four dead bodies lying about. One of the dead bodies had been impaled on the leg of an overturned table. There were huge blood stains on expensive carpet and on marble tile. Several of the walls were riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood splatters.

"It looks like a war was fought in here," I said, awestruck at the amount of blood and destruction. My feet stopped moving, but Mrs. Brie wasn't going to tolerate my dawdling, and she warned me to make haste towards the exit.

* * * * *

I didn't speak again until I was sitting in Mrs. Brie's SUV and we were miles away from Paul Darcy's home. We did eventually hear police sirens; however, we were long gone by then. Dasha was driving the SUV and Mrs. Brie and I were both in the back seat.

"What the hell happened in there?" I finally asked.

"Paul Darcy was never a nice man," Mrs. Brie replied, "however, I never thought he'd do something as blatantly illegal as kidnapping. Once Dasha told me you'd been kidnapped, and I realized Paul was behind it, I decided to take matters into my own hands."

I raised my eyebrows at that. "Most people would have called the police," I said.

"Paul owns the Encanto Brewing Company," Mrs. Brie began, but Dasha corrected her.

"I think you mean he used to own the Encanto Brewing Company," Dasha said, "I am pretty sure he is dead now."

"Okay," Mrs. Brie responded, with an enigmatic look on her face, "Paul used to own the Encanto Brewing Company. He used a number of nefarious tactics to wrest control from the previous owners. Some of the things he did were not strictly legal, however, the police and the district attorney's office left Paul alone for some reason. I suspect that Paul has some sort of arrangement with the police."

"Bribes?" I asked.

"It wouldn't be the first time that a wealthy man bribed the police," Mrs. Brie replied, "And I couldn't take the chance that Paul would use crooked cops to help him cover up your kidnapping. I had to take a personal interest in rescuing you."

I nodded numbly, as if this all made sense to me. In point of fact, this was a lot to take in all at once, and I was having difficulty in processing it all.

For one thing, how had Mrs. Brie survived being shot? I saw Darcy shoot her with my own two eyes, and I was reasonably certain that she had been shot by Darcy's goons before she came down to the basement. How had she survived being shot multiple times?

"So, you got shot, right?" I asked, "I mean, you got shot a whole bunch of times. Why aren't you dead?"

Mrs. Brie was very nearly covered in blood. Not all of the blood was hers, but I'm pretty sure that a lot of it was. And I had seen her get shot twice in the chest by Paul Darcy. Not only was she alive, but she seemed stronger and more resilient than I did.

Mrs. Brie took a deep breath, let it out through her nostrils and then looked me in the eye, and said, "I'm not dead because I'm a succubus. My kind can recover from traumatic injuries and blood loss far more rapidly than humans."

"A succubus?" I asked, incredulously.

"A succubus is a female who appears human in just about every way," Mrs. Brie began to explain, however in reality, they're actually immortal creatures, and they feed off of- "

I interrupted her in mid-sentence. "I already know what a succubus is," I protested, "but, they're not real! They're fictional creatures! They don't exist! You can't be a succubus!"

"Oh, I can't?" Mrs. Brie responded, "I suppose I also couldn't have killed five armed men with my bare hands, and yet all five of them are dead, and I'm still alive. Explain that."

"But, but," I said feeling confused and overwhelmed, "everybody knows that there's no such thing a succubi!"

"And five-hundred years ago, everybody knew that the Earth was at the center of the universe, and that the sun orbited out planet," Mrs. Brie countered, "Did that make it true?"

"Um," I responded stupidly, more flustered and bewildered than ever. I felt like I had just accidentally walked into a Stephen King novel.

"She will not be able to handle it," Dasha replied from the front seat, "Her life is shopping malls and texting friends with her phone. She cannot handle life when things get weird."

"Wait," I called out, "Dasha, you knew about this?"

"I have seen lots of weird shit," Dasha confessed, "Mrs. Brie being succubus is not the weirdest thing I have ever seen. I can deal with my boss being succubus, no problem."

"When my husband learned what I am, he became deathly afraid of me," Mrs. Brie said, "Now he won't come within ten miles of me. That's why he's constantly doing sales work in Boston, New York and Baltimore. He's afraid that if he gets too close I'll steal his soul or some such thing."

I shook my head at the comment about her husband. I wasn't sure what to make about Mrs. Brie's comments about being a succubus, but I wasn't going to run away from her, like her husband did.

"You saved my life tonight," I said quite honestly, "and you've always been nice to me. I have every reason to trust you, and no reason to be afraid of you."

"That's good to hear," Mrs. Brie said, as a smile crossed her face, "My daughter loves you, and I've grown rather fond of you as well. If you developed an irrational fear of me, it would make things very difficult."

I nodded in agreement with that.

Suddenly a thought occurred to me, and I blurted out, "Oh my God! Lyndsay! She's your daughter! Is she a succubus too?"

Mrs. Brie removed her blood-soaked gloves and studied her hands for a while. Her brow furrowed, as if she were carefully studying her own fingers and trying to puzzle them out. Then she said, "Well, that question is rather difficult to answer."

"Is more complicated," Dasha added.

"Complicated?" I asked, "Complicated, why?"

Mrs. Brie continued to study her fingers and said, "Succubi cannot breed with other succubi. We can only breed with humans. And when a succubus gives birth, the child is always born human. The male children always stay human. Female children will stay human long enough to go through puberty. After puberty is over, sometimes they'll go through a stage we call the transition. If Lyndsay goes through that she'll become a succubus."

"If?" I asked, "You're not certain what's going to happen to her?"

"Lyndsay is still a teenager," Mrs. Brie said, "I was twenty-two when I went through the transition. It's too early to say if Lyndsay will spend the rest of her life as a human or take after her mother and become immortal."

I was in a state of shock and confusion. This was too much to take in all at once. I told Mrs. Brie as much. I wanted to understand it all, and I wasn't going to run away like Mrs. Brie's husband did, but I wasn't going to be able to wrap my mind around all of this in one single night.

When we got home, Mrs. Brie stripped naked and burned all her clothes. When she was naked, I could clearly see she was smeared with blood and had at least five ugly wounds where she had been shot. Three were chest wounds, one was a leg wound in her right thigh, one was an abdominal wound. She had been shot less than an hour ago, however the wounds looked as if they'd been healing for months.

Mrs. Brie seemed to be less concerned about her own health, and instead worried about how I was holding up. She gave me a little white pill called avittan to help cope with the frightening ordeal that I'd just been through.

"You've had a traumatic evening," Mrs. Brie reminded me, "You've been assaulted, kidnapped, and witnessed some horrific acts of extreme violence. You probably need this."

I took the pill without hesitation. I had just endured the most harrowing night of my entire life, and I knew that avittan had a calming effect, similar to Valium.

Mrs. Brie then went to go shower the blood out of her face and hair. Dasha went to go clean blood off the seats and the interior of the SUV. Julie and Lyndsay both came downstairs shortly after I was left alone in the kitchen.

"Gwen," Lyndsay exclaimed emphatically, and suddenly I was tackled, and enveloped in a very passionate hug.

"We were so worried about you," Julie added, "Are you alright?"

Lyndsay rested her head on my shoulder and clung to me with a desperate intensity, as if she was afraid I'd disappear if she ever let go.

"I'm fine," I responded as I hugged Lyndsay back, "Lyndsay's mom was amazing. She rescued me. She's a lot stronger and tougher than she looks. She's like a one-woman SWAT team."

Lyndsay squeezed me tightly and pressed her body firmly against mine. Julie stood behind me and placed a hand on the small of my back and said, "Gwen, your bottom! It's all red!"

I had forgotten how cruelly Darcy had abused my poor bottom, but as soon as Julie called attention to it, my poor bottom seemed to throb with stinging pain once again.

"The guy who kidnapped me had some very barbaric ideas for how to treat uncooperative prisoners," I replied.

"What did he do?" Julie asked, "Use a riding crop on you?"

"Close enough," I replied, "Some sort of whip."

Lyndsay released her hold on me long enough to move about and get a look at my abused buttocks.

"He really did some damage," Lyndsay commented, "You're still going to have marks tomorrow, probably take five or six days for them to fade."

"Ouch," Julie said sympathetically, as she examined my wounded bottom more closely, "Gwen, come up to my room. I've got some stuff I can put on your bottom."

* * * * *

When I got up to Julie's room, Lyndsay was standing right next to me. It didn't take two people to smooth lotion across my abused buttocks, however, Lyndsay was in a highly emotional state and was unwilling to let me out of her sight for even a few seconds. It was like she thought I'd get kidnapped again if she wasn't constantly keeping an eye out for me.

Julie opened a drawer and pulled out some sort of plastic squirt bottle. "This is therapy lotion," Julie informed me. "It's got vitamin-E and aloe. It's used mainly to treat sunburn, but it should help ease the pain and speed up the healing process for this too."

My best friend poured a generous amount of lotion into her hand and had me lie down on her bed. When I was lying down comfortably, Julie sat down next to me and began to rub the therapy lotion into the stinging flesh of my abused buttocks. My ass was very tender, and I gasped and squirmed reflexively, when Julie gently rubbed her fingertips across my poor, abused flesh.

"Sorry," Julie said when her touch caused me to flinch, but I told her to keep rubbing it in.

"It's okay," I told her. "The lotion is a good idea. Keep rubbing it in. If I make a fuss, just try to ignore me."

It didn't take more than a minute or two before Lyndsay volunteered to help, and soon I had both my girlfriend and my best friend rubbing lotion into my thighs and ass. They were both gentle as they slowly worked the lotion into my skin; and at some point; their ministrations stopping hurting my tender flesh and started to feel pleasurable.

It might have been the beneficial effects of the lotion, it made have been a side effect of the avittan, or possibly it had something to do with the emotional bond I felt for both Julie and Lyndsay, but at some point, I began to enjoy their fingertips stroking my tender flesh, and I moaned softly with pleasure.

At some point during my squirming, I raised my hips up off the bed and allowed my knees to drift apart. I didn't make a conscious decision to do this, I just seemed to move my lower body into that position without thinking. Feminine hands continued to stroke my bare buttocks, but with my thighs far apart, my labia were well-exposed, and fingertips seemed to drift closer and closer to my sex.

"Your pubic lips look red and swollen too," Lyndsay observed, "Did he whip you there too?"

"What?" I asked.

Of course, Darcy hadn't whipped me there. If he had, the pain would have been excruciating. If my pubic lips were red and swollen, it was due to the fact that I was getting turned on from having two attractive, young women rub my naked flesh with their attentive hands.

"If your pubic lips are sore, I could work some lotion in there too," Lyndsay suggested, "Of course, if that would embarrass you, just tell me to leave it alone, and I won't touch you there."

Something about the tone in Lyndsay's voice told me that she knew Darcy hadn't whipped my swollen labia; and was just looking for an excuse to play with my pussy. I could tell her that he hadn't done anything to my pubic lips, but where would the fun be in that?

"I'm not embarrassed," I said, "Just be gentle. My pubic lips are very sore and tender right now."

"I'll be gentle," Lyndsay assured me, and I detected the merest hint of mischief in her voice. Lyndsay and I both knew that we were playing a game here. Julie was the only one who didn't seem to understand what was going on.

There was a hungry throbbing deep within my loins as I waited for Lyndsay's fingertips to stroke my swollen pubic lips. Lyndsay seemed to take forever to squeeze a dollop of lotion into her hand and place her fingers between my legs. It was just another example of Lyndsay being mischievous. She knew I wanted her to play with pussy and she was making me wait.

I was on tenterhooks, practically panting with anticipation for her hand to get to work between my legs. Lyndsay took her time, making me hungry for her touch and studying the distress and impatience on my face. The longer she delayed, the more insistent the soft, wet pulse in my loins nagged at me.

"Let me know if I'm being too rough," Lyndsay said as her lubricated fingers finally made contact with my swollen labia, "I can stop any time you want."

I gasped at the first touch of her fingertips and she immediately withdrew her fingers. Lyndsay was pretending to be sweet, but she was being mischievous.

"I'm sorry," Lyndsay said, trying to sound concerned, "I'm really trying to be gentle."

"No, it's okay," I said, trying to get her to touch my needy sex once again, "Go on, rub it in really well."

Julie seemed to be totally clueless. Lyndsay was playing a game, making me insane with sexual need, and Julie's facial expression held only concern for my well-being. She had no idea that I was in sexual distress, or that Lyndsay was enjoying prolonging my misery.

There are plenty of deliciously sensitive nerve endings in my labia, and Lyndsay seemed to have a talent for finding all of them. She utilized just the most minimal amount of pressure at first, using a feather touch as she pressed her fingertips into the swollen folds of my pubic lips, but the amount of pressure behind her fingertips gradually grew.

Of course, my swollen clit was the spot with the most sensitive nerve endings. Lyndsay avoided touching me there until I was feverish with sexual need. Then (and only then) did she lavish attention on my aching, throbbing clit.

The more Lyndsay worked her hand between my legs, the more labored my breathing became and the more my hips squirmed, and my legs trembled. Eventually the suggestive writhing of my hips became so shameless that even Julie was able to catch to the game Lyndsay was playing.

"Lyndsay!" Julie admonished, "You sneaky devil! You were supposed to be applying medicine, not fingering my best friend to an orgasm!"

Lyndsay's face took on a look of exaggerated innocence, and she replied, "I can do both."

Then she held my swollen clitoris between her thumb and index finger and said, "And anyway, sex produces endorphins, which are natural painkillers. So, in a way, fingering Gwen to orgasm is a sort of medical treatment."

Lyndsay smiled her beauty pageant smile and began to roll my clitoris between her thumb and index finger. She knew exactly what she was doing, and her fingers were working a delicious sort of magic on my tender pink nub. I moaned at the heavenly cocktail of sensations as Lyndsay tended to my throbbing clitoris and Julie's hands gently glided across my abused buttocks.

At some point Lyndsay ended up using both hands to finger my pussy and play with my clit. Meanwhile, Julie decided to join in the fun, and curled up beside me with her face close to mine.

"Your face gets all dreamy when you're approaching orgasm," Julie informed me as she stared into my eyes, "You look so adorable right now."

Lyndsay thrust her fingers deep inside my sex and crammed them inside of me until it seemed there was no more room. And while I was impaled on Lyndsay's strong, capable fingers, Julie molded her lips to mine, kissing me deeply.