Tu Fui, Ego Eris

“Love that is not madness is not love.”

- Pedro Calderon de la Barca

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Chapter 7: Omnia Vincit Amor; Et Nos Cedamus Amori
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That had to be the longest piss he'd ever seen...

Hewie finally found solace as he sort of stooped in the graveyard, legs spreading a little so he could relieve himself without a tree. It was like a damn fire hose, going and going and going... The dog looked back at his new master is an almost embarrassed expression as he did so. Riccardo proceeded to actually watch this in a strange sort of fascination. How could he still be pissing? Over a minute went by...

Finally, he stopped. Then the dog did a full-body shake, which would have been noisy had he been wearing a collar. Daniella's body lay on the ground by the steps, where he had just left the hall of doors, where he had been chasing Fiona the night previous. It felt like ages ago...Even he found it hard to believe it was so short a time since he was hunting. Thinking of her made him want to be back by her side, he really couldn't wait for tonight...He would make it extra special for them both.

Yet right now, his mind still lingered on the poor maid. He really would have to stop thinking about her soon; he had to get on with his life. As far as he was concerned, Lorenzo's era was finished. They were both dead, him and his creation. Now the only evidence that he ever existed lay in who he left behind. Himself, and Fiona. It was now officially the next day; and tonight he would consummate together what was left of that old man, and start anew.

Debilitas was busy near the other side of the graveyard, covering Lorenzo's grave. It was near where the opening to the catacombs lay. He stood with his back to him, not even aware he was there because of the distance and the noise of his own shoveling. He was glad he had arrived when he was already underground, he really didn't want to see the old man's corpse again. Part of it was because he wanted to move on already, forget the past and that fetid creature that created him. The other part, he had to admit...was a sort of unintentional, unwanted remorse. Not for what he did, but for the fact that he was gone forever. He hated to think it, didn't want to...It made him sick inside. He hated him. Hated him beyond what he thought possible. Yet in the end...His father, his creator...The one who taught him and raised him...He had just wished he could have been normal. That he could have been like Ugo, cared for in the same, almost loving, way...If only the fucker had thought about more then just himself.

He sort of groaned in his throat, Riccardo wished he could stop thinking about this, he really could. Things had went in his favor in the majority, he had re-captured Fiona despite her attempt to escape. The dog was under his control. The old man was dead and nearly buried...Why did he still feel so miserable? He hoped to God he wouldn't feel like this for the rest of his life. There were times before he acquired Fiona that he wished he would never wake up when he ever did get to sleep. That he would just...up and die and get it over with. Then the fear would creep in. The fear of dying out, the fear the original Aureolus Belli had as he continued his attempts to clone. The reason he decided to clone. Riccardo wanted to die...Yet he wanted to live forever. He had too...He didn't want to really die so much as he wanted the pain and self-loathing of his own disgusting form to end. Why couldn't it just end...?

Although there were times when he wished he would die, there was always the wish he had never been born to begin with. Then none of this would have happened...None of it. No murder, no death. The only thing that kept him alive was the knowledge that he would die out completely lest he take action, and action he took indeed. It was a never-ending desire and craven need. Live on. He had to live on. He had to fix what Lorenzo and Ugo had both ruined. He had to live on, continue this broken legacy. A child, he had to have a child...He had to set out to do what Aureolus had done before him numerous times. He had discovered that once he began thinking about Fiona, he didn't want to die at all. He wanted to live...But with purpose. And it had turned into a feverish, absolute fuel for his desires. Wanting it, having to have it. If Fiona went on in her normal life, and had normal children with a normal man, Aureolus's Azoth would fizzle out and turn dull. Lost in a sea of normalcy that turned his stomach. Aureolus...him...would live on as long as his life-force, his Azoth, did.

Azoth. That word itself had so much history. A fancy word for something everybody had at least a little of, but the Bellis had perfected and strengthened within themselves. It was something the maid lacked nearly entirely, he himself had in partial capacity, and Fiona had in quite the abundance. It made him envious of her, and even of the old man and Ugo when they were alive. Yet it was something that was just as misunderstood as them all. What it was, how it worked, was something that was rather cryptic and unknown to most people, even other alchemists.

Aureolus reached prestige with alchemy, he was greatly hailed among alchemists in general. But he was hailed in secret amongst their own kind, he never published a book or reached the fame of Flamel or the like. The outside world never heard of the Belli family in such a way, those that had, had died out hundreds of years ago along with him. They knew the Bellis as the usual one man and his father, with the occasional woman on his arm as a lover. Yet the lovers came and went, none of them taking a wife or fathering a natural child. Though he often wondered if any of those woman had been impregnated and somewhere today there were more descendants of their blood then he was led to believe. Yet that was neither here nor there. Regardless, they were always looked upon as strange. One man looking like the last, and with no evidence of a mother in sight. Normal people suspected but never understood, but the sort that they conversed and associated with, high-ranking alchemists, seemed to understand very well.

They knew that they had accomplished the alchemist's third goal, and in doing so had become the ultimate of their kind. Aureolus was the sort to gloat to those below him, and gained both popularity and enemies in the process. He had done it; created a human being from scratch. A homunculus, a clone. Some have said to have done it before, create a helper, a maid, some miniature human being. Yet it wasn't the same as what they have done. The sperm being the only thing normal used in the process, everything else derived from formula that Aureolus himself made a break-through in creating. Others were jealous, and they had many a break-in back when alchemy was commonplace and they attempted to steal the knowledge. They never made it far. There was a good reason the castle had as many traps as it did, most as old as the castle itself. It was still a concern even today, which was why they remained in place and were not disabled centuries ago.

Before cloning, he had discovered how to turn lead into gold. It was the very thing alchemists were mostly known for. Ask any normal person today and they would tell you this was the main goal. That itself is fallacy, but it was, still, a major objective, one of the three goals they strove for. It was another secret he didn't share, never revealed, and it made him rich. Building a large mansion over the area they mined materials such as minerals and rock. Yet this had made them wealthy beyond belief, gold sold through his merchants. Pure gold, other metals, amongst many medical wonders only he had perfected. He was a genius, a man of absolute ability and talent. Yet he was also a mad man...Willing to do whatever he needed to accomplish his goal.

He never did find the philosopher's stone, the penec, anything resembling the second goal of an alchemist. It was the universal cure for any ailment, something that would make a man live forever. It was said he came close...but in his search for it, led to the third, to cloning. It was the reason they were still here today. His research and discovery into transmuting gold from lead gave him the extra edge. He had uncovered was Azoth really was.

Until then it was simply thought of the universal solvent; that which held everything together. The missing link, the one thing that was often thought of as the "miscellaneous" element. It was said that it was composed of salt, sulfur, and mercury. This was true; as when these were combined in an alchemical fashion, it did produce a certain energy that was the basis of Azoth itself. Yet it was artificial, could infuse something with the very basis of life...But never even begin to reach the level that was needed. It could be used as the solvent...Yet true Azoth...

True Azoth had to be extracted. Not created. Just like one may be able to manufacture fake diamonds, "cubic zirconium", in a lab, while the real diamond had to mined out. So the same was with Azoth. He discovered something about Azoth only he ever did; a positively mind blowing discovery. In a way, he had found the philosopher's stone...inside himself. He had found a way to live forever.

Riccardo may have remembered more then he wanted to from his previous lives...But he had a hard time trying to...or maybe he really didn't want to...recall what sort of horrid experiments were done to discover how to extract the substance. He discovered it originally through creating the artificial Azoth, and having an epiphany. Surely, there was something to this... "Azoth", that was rarely talked about or discussed in alchemy. It was not being used to it's full potential. His experiments spread to the sort of energy that was given off by the substance, to the discovery that it was the same energy produced by life itself. Animals were used, dead and alive. Then dead humans...he knew at some point a live human was most likely used. There was really was no doubt about it.

Then came the ultimate. Experimenting on himself. That he did, both finding ways to extract it and deliver it. He discovered several things through this particular facet of his work. One of them being the absolute power that this particular energy, substance, had. It could sustain, never die out or fizzle. Even when a being died, it remained behind in the body for in the very least several hours, of which it would leave but never dissipate. A likely explanation for spirits, or ghosts. Residual Azoth would still remain for quite some time even in the body. He fueled the Azoth of others into himself, and found that it didn't work nearly as well as when he collected Azoth from himself, and re-injected it. It strengthened. Much like if a person gave blood and kept it, of course their body would produce more. Except, unlike blood, Azoth could be re-introduced without worry about overloading the body. It collected and pooled stronger, and stronger over time. He soon developed formula to do the same thing. Aurelolus took on the appearance of a middle-aged man in his aging life. He started to live in seclusion, not deeming anybody worthy to see his perfected form. To reveal his grand discovery.

With his new youth, he had become power incarnate. He was granted more time to achieve what he had sought all along, the Great Truth. It was the most important thing, the grandest thing. It was the secret of their existence, of life itself. It was something not just alchemists looked for, but all of human kind. He had come to the conclusion that human life could not, was not meant to, find the truth. The truth of creation, of the universe and her grand symbols. Only his grand self, more then just a human now, something more powerful, strong...beyond man. Closer to God. Closer to immortal. He was immortal...could see it. He had added it to his objective, with this much more Godly form, he could seek the truth. With his aquired knowledge, his powerful life, he felt worthy or at least as close to worthy as he was ever going to get. He must seek the Great Truth. And he would dedicate himself to the realization of this truth.

There was only one problem; mortality. Even with this stronger Azoth, he would still die. His body, anyway. Then he came to the thought, Azoth never did dissipate...Especially that as powerful as his. If he could create another body and infuse it with his Azoth...Why, it would be just like being born again! He could live on as long as he'd like. He could live forever!

He tried the most basic way first, infusing a dead body with his own Azoth. The result was monstrous, a sort of Frankenstein's monster. He killed it and gained it back, there was no way he could live as a reanimated corpse...Only one thing would work, a clone. He had to find a way. It was something alchemists had sought for thousands of years, and he would make it be.

Aureolus came to make more discoveries, that Azoth was contained within every cell of the body, even in the reproductive cells of both males and females. The spermatozoa and ovary. This was known as "original Azoth" and the dominant, stronger one would always dominate and become that of the child. Yet the woman's mattered; for it was in the woman that original Azoth was created. In this way, it very much was a feminine entity. Both men and woman had it, but only the woman formed such a thing inside her. It was the essence of woman. So bedding a normal woman wouldn't give him a clone, even if his Azoth dominated, the child would be so different in blood, and the woman's production of the Azoth would be unpure...

It wasn't good enough. Just not good enough at all. He considered bedding a woman, then perhaps having a child with that child...but by the time that occurred, he would be dead. No time to teach his heir to the Azoth the ways of the Great Truth, no time for greatness...And it was his blood, the blood that had been kept pure by several generations of inbreeding, would be mixed with some wanton whore. He wanted nothing to do with human life. To him, they were all disgusting. Only his blood, his enriched, Belli blood would be good enough. Only a clone would suffice. Even inbreeding wouldn't have been good enough for him at this stage. His sisters were dead long ago, thanks to illnesses relating or poor sanitation. His brothers dying of old age long before he did, having worked hard their whole lives. Lives that were not spend toiling in a lab...And his mother and father had passed, of course, long since before them. He was the last...Yet this would not remain so.

Research. Development...And then finally, progress. Many years went by, all while he could feel his time starting to slip away. He made another breakthrough, he created a woman's egg from scratch. The recipe was then written down in latin, a dead language, hidden in the vast libraries of the castle. Yet the entire process itself, was oral. Told generation by generation, and oddly enough imprinted into their very minds. For energy, it appeared, could hold thought, hold blips and impulses of everything from memory to personality. And with it's power, it would live on even stronger then that of a normal human being. Most of Aureolus' original knowledge didn't even need to be read, only taught from one incarnation to the next. It was safer that way; knowledge written down for all to see was more likely to be stolen.

The floranimila was not created yet; that came later to make the grand "process" easier-and it was a process, for it was time consuming and ripe with difficulty. He used his own blood which contained his Azoth to create a blank egg, and fused it with his sperm. After several failures, and many years down the line, he created the first clone in the history of man kind. Before modern science cloned even Dolly the sheep, Bertoldo grew from his embryo into a baby ready to be born. The fluid from his capsule drained once he was ready, and the fetus screamed as it floated away from him, pulled from the tank as it's umbilical cord was cut from the side of the artificial womb. It was as though he could already see his world from his creation's eyes...His Azoth, his soul...Was still alive. If it were a normal child, it would continue on in mostly blood, not so much the soul...Yet this was different. This contained his life and blood, something science would never grasp or comprehend. This child was him as another form. He had branched out, and would continue to do so. He would never die.

Perhaps when the air is too acrid from all the smoke in the atmosphere, or the last human dies of some worldwide killer plague, or when the sun finally blacks out and gives nothing but darkness to the world...Or maybe when they finally seek and find this "Great Truth" and it is realized and fully explored by his kind...will he die. But he was positive, almost...foretelling, this would not happen anywhere near soon. Yet it would eventually happen, that he was sure of, and something told him it wouldn't be exactly what he expected.

Riccardo blinked, he went into that mode again...Slipping back into that mind set. He would be thinking about that old man of an ancestors of his one minute, and re-living it the next. He didn't particularly like it. In those modes, he saw himself successful...With a goal, no matter how fiercely determined he was. It was actually almost frightening to him. A murderous, craven hitman one minute...A terrified reminiscer the next. Just his luck.

He was an alchemist, that he could not deny. Just as one would consider themselves a miner, a butcher, an artist, any sort of profession or hobby they may have excelled in. And in a way, it had become his life's calling, what he was destined to become. What he was taught, raised to become...What he never really took to as much as Ugo did...Perfect little Ugo. It was what the old man taught him, expected of him. Greatness was expected even of him, despite his shortcomings. He spent every waking moment trying to please him, and live up to those expectations. That meddlesome old prick...He couldn't believe he wasted so much of his life just trying in vain to earn his respect and admiration.

In the end, he supposed he felt he had to earn it...It was never granted to him. There was only one way...To earn it. It never came. Despite waiting on him hand and foot...Cloning again, and again and again...Hoping he could impress that old man and blow past what was expected of him. Just one son, just one child to show him...Why, why, couldn't he just care...Say one word-

Riccardo blinked again, this time shaking his head. Get a grip! That fucker was dead now, in the grave. He wasn't worthy of a grave but he was getting one. Though Ugo sure wouldn't...For fleeing the castle and "stealing away" with "their" Azoth, he would never be forgiven, the traitor. Let him be buried in a foreign country far from home, with nobody to mourn over his grave, an emotionless government sent the bill for his burial and plain gravestone that would most likely read "U. Belli." Ha, he could almost see it now...

Thoughts of his brother sifted up, and those he hastily flung away. If it was one thing he didn't need now...It was the far more recent memories flooding up. The relatively pleasant ones. He had enough of that for tonight. His eyes cast back towards Debilitas, mind on the future.

Slowly, he began stepping forward, towards his failed but still useful creation. It was then that he noticed the dog seemed to drag behind him, the leash taught and digging into his palm. He stopped, and looked back. Hewie eyed the giant before him with apprehension, and a low, warning growl started in his throat. At this...something in the clone's brain clicked into place. The look in the dog's eyes mirrored that when he was looking at the maid. He looked from the dog, then shifted in absolute smoothness towards the creature as he continued to pour dirt on his fallen creator.

"BANG!"

A shot rang out, a small semi-circle appeared at the tombstone a mere feet from Debilitas. It was a miss, but a clear miss. An intended one, to warn. To scare.

Debilitas nearly dropped his shovel in shock, grunting in surprise as he backpedaled, just staring at the small hole. How close it was, how easily it could have been him...He turned, and once again Riccardo stood there with a smoking gun. His master was quite the sight. He was standing there like some hero of the day, gun still pointed at him. The simple creature did not know that those particular guns took so long to reload, that he had not done so yet, and that it even needed to be reloaded. All he knew was what it was capable of. And that was enough. Beside him on a long, rope lead, was the dog. That same dog...And just like a mirror image of before, he stood to his side, back slung and hackles up. Growling, teeth barred...

Then his master spoke; and it was in that tone that he swore Riccardo could have been God himself.

"If I ever see you..." He began, his voice so eerily low, but flowing with rage.

"...Near her. If I ever see you...Look at her in any way...except shame...I won't miss next time."

The creature just seemed to barely get this, and went to stumble back even further. He knew. Just by the look on his scarred face, he knew...

"...I will have gutted and cleaned your corpse before you even knew you were dead, then I'll feed you to the dog like pieces of wretched meat. You will know...Oh yes, you will know what pain is, when I come for you... You will see the ravages of hell, and you will then beg to see the real one...before I finish with you..."

He blinked slowly, his face showing an expression close to the same he showed in the hallway. Debilitas knew he had been warned about the dolly...Twice. He had already gone far, far farther then he should have. By all rights...He should be dead. How Riccardo kept from shooting him in that second, he couldn't understand. The grotesque thing had pushed his luck too far with a man that had none to give.

Not when it came to his Fiona...

Debilitas stumbled back, his foot hitting the edge of the still open hole, stumbling but keeping up. His eyes were still focused on his master, shovel in his hand. He was terrified beyond his wildest imagination. In the giant's mind, he was going to die. Riccardo's face was not like before, where he was so angry he swore a scar would pop open from the pressure. But now...There a stern, cold expression. Like of ice, his eyes cold daggers that matched their color. His burning rage was so hot, it had burned a blue flame, freezing hot like ice. The fingers that held his gun were sweaty and twitching...and now that he could see him better in the light, his fingers on the trigger were still moving.

Riccardo still squeezed the trigger, even now, the hammer falling again and again as his thumb moved...It wasn't loaded, but that didn't matter to him. He didn't even have the thought to piece the movement together. The gun, which was still raised, began to shake as he finally lowered it. Even now the dog still growled, then emitted a low bark. Riccardo then pointed the gun back, slowly, towards Daniella's body on the steps.

"The maid has been...slain."

His voice came out dripping with vicious intent, hesitating as he found the words.

"Bury her... wherever there is room."

He turned away, Hewie being jerked slightly as he followed suite...The dog was not willing to leave the giant so easily. He watched him with care...Even when the beast sank to his knees in front of Fiona, he still didn't trust him. The creature was far too strange and hulking for him to ignore. In the eyes...or rather, nose of a dog, if they smelled bad...They were bad. Even the "bad" smell that was Riccardo still didn't hold his complete trust, but his authority was impossible to ignore.

"...Touch my Lady again...and you'll join them both."

His words were not yelled, but spoke in the typical, drawling tone he used. Yet it was deeper, it was filled with pure hate. Disgust. And warning.

Debilitas lowered his head, and actually began to cry silently. He wiped a tear away with his large fingers, knowing now that he could never look his master in the eyes ever again...And never look upon the beauty that was the Goddess, her form gliding upon his garden as she strolled fluidly. White silken dress flowing over her large, begotten form with child, hand under her stomach. An odd look of serenity upon her face, the occasional smile and giggle, golden hair flowing in the casual summer wind.

This unexplained vision, that he knew he could never witness in person...seemed to sadden the giant the most.

---

There was still so much to be done...

The Belli stood in the kitchen again, leaning into the counter as he supported himself with his arms. His head was lowered and looking at the dirty counter that still had pieces of meat upon it, knives stabbing into the flesh much like the maid herself. It reminded him what had to be done, and what would have to be done from then on. This was all his job to clean up. It was a tired thought, considered how busy a man he was to begin with. He did consider himself lucky to be rid of at least the old man, his constant pleads for help no longer there to ask or criticize his actions. The place was now his, and his Lady's of course.

When he arrived back in the castle, he locked the dog in the kitchen, then went to check on her. Just opened the door a crack to peek in, he didn't want to wake her from her deep, sound sleep. She still slumbered away, in the very same position he left her in. He didn't have time to even admire her unspoken beauty, but hastily - but quietly -closed the door behind him and walked back. In was now almost one. He hoped she would awake soon. Even now he was excited, he would make love to the girl this very night...He almost found himself nervous, hoping to make an impression that would cast him in a better light. If she hated him, fine...Yet there was a reason many woman stayed with men that they despised; it was in the bed that a true romance could stay together or fall apart. If he played his part in this play well enough, she would never want to leave him.

Not that she had a choice in the matter. It would, however, make things so much more pleasant about this often gloomy place. Even a man as despicable as him would do just about anything to see a look of pleasure and happiness upon his lover's face. And he had done just about anything...He had killed three people.

He had done it all to live on. He had done it all for her. He had done it all for love.

Now the dog was laying on the floor opposite of him, seeming to delight laying down on such a cool floor after such frenzied activity. He really did have enough, and was quite tired. Even a body designed and bred for endurance would have to rest at some point. His front feet splayed out before him, back legs slightly under and a little out, back a little against the wall. With an open mouth, he panted rather silently as his red tongue moved up and down. He watched the man with an odd smell and a cracked face, but only lazily. Hewie had grown used to his company, his leadership, and was still afraid to look him in the eye.

The man looked tired, he didn't realize until now it was the expression he had always wore, one of being just barely able to hold himself together. Right now, he was still very thirsty, not really having anything to drink besides that small trickle in the prison. He wished the man would give him some, maybe some food as well. At least that miserable rope was gone, it was starting to chafe into his neck from being dragged and wrenched this way and that.

Riccardo sighed, this was all so frustrating. Now he had a dog to look after, he had never had a dog in this castle before. Besides the ones he used to harvest, which he surely didn't consider pets, so he didn't count those. This was sure to be a new experience. He just hoped he wouldn't regret letting the dog live, if it turned on him again he would be forced to put him down for good. In the very least he may try to make it a quick shot to the head to make it as painless as possible, to spare Fiona his gruesome death. Somehow, however, he had doubted it. There was something about the dog that had changed since he had been shot, and not in the company of the girl. An urge to please, no matter whom that person may have been.

Well, no matter. He would deal with it. Presently, his mind raced with all the things that would eventually need tending to. This messy kitchen, the glass that needed replacing in the guest suite...And the Hall of Globes, of which he wasn't sure what would be involved with that. Some people would most assuredly need to be called in, and he was not a fan of that notion at all. He wondered if he should just call a group of people in to do it all, some maid service and contractor...But it would have to wait, most of it anyway. He could clean this kitchen up, in the least. Start from square one. He could use a little lunch, prepare something edible, anyway. When Fiona woke up, his priorities would shift. There was no old man to hunt down this time, it would be just him and her.

His thoughts shifted back to Debilitas...The way the dog had acted was as obvious as ever an indication. Daniella had chased her, with the dog obviously in tow, protecting her...And for that, he had to admit, he was grateful...And now the dog growled and bristled in the exact same manner towards their gardener. Now the look in his face as he reached towards Fiona and called her "Dolly" suddenly made so much sense, he mentally smacked himself from not seeing it so clearly until now. The poor thing had been run about the whole place like a piece of meat, and he was none the wiser...If only she had just sought him out, found him, asked for help...He could have prevented this all from occurring. She was too afraid...Too desperate to get away, to ask for help. Even the maid may have been able to do something, perhaps fetch Riccardo and tell him of her plight, had she just opened her mouth to utter something besides a scream...

Yet he supposed he would let the monstrosity live, he needed a gardener. He did enough work around here, at least he took care of the plants. Trimming the hedges, watering the flowers, tending to what needed to be done. And really, he did a mighty good job of it. The creature was a gentle soul, and oddly enough had the touch of a feather when dealing with the beautiful flowers that adorned the castle's garden. The place was long overdue for a new look. Now that a ravishing woman would be staying with them, he was positive the place would liven up. More colorful, vibrant perennials, tulips...roses. Riccardo himself was no botanist, had no real "green thumb", but there was a seed within him that loved the sight of something that was naturally, vibrantly beautiful. The sight of a garden in spring time, when they bloomed and he did occasionally like to pick some, and put them in a vase in the laundry or music room...It was the seed that had bloomed in Debilitas. The compassionate side that had yet to truly awaken within himself.

Yes, he would let the beast live...But he would get no third chance. He would live the rest of his sad existence being watched out of the corner of his eye.

The dog...Hewie...looked at him as he rose his head up from gazing at the counter. When did he last eat? In the cell, but it wasn't much. He hadn't drunk anything, either. Now that he thought about it, the animal did seem to have a rather strange look to him in general. The hunger in the dog's eyes made him think back to his mistress sleeping tiredly upstairs. Noon had come and gone, and he didn't want her sleeping all day, lest she wouldn't want to sleep tonight. And he did want her so badly to sleep tonight, with him. The concept of cradling the young miss in his arms was enough to make him hard, and he leaned against the counter and sighed. Sure, he could hump the hell out of the edge of the kitchen counter...But the dog was still looking at him. Somehow, he didn't like the idea...And he couldn't risk the possibility of relieving his seed into his pants, of all places.

Even before he set out in search of the maid, he was badly shaken. He had awoke from his short sleep, which lasted only three hours, with a start. There was a horrible dream, a nightmare, really, and it ended with his own death. He had been pushed off the top of the water tower. Falling, falling down...Farther, farther...The last thing he saw was his precious Fiona, the only thing he had ever wanted...He saw her standing there, watching as he teetered backwards towards the ledge...Pushed from that meddlesome cur as he kept walking back, back farther and farther...He slowly cried her name...

"Help me!"

"Please, my love...Help me! HELP ME!"

It tore at his soul, his heart, as he saw her continue to stand there...Frightened, horrified. She wasn't moving. He couldn't stop himself, his body was worn down, but he knew he would fall...Why wasn't she helping him...? Why...?

Why didn't she at least try? Why-

Then he felt his body pitch backwards in exhaustion, depleted and torn apart by Hewie, his momentum enough to still send him back. It was over. He was going to die..

He didn't want to die...Riccardo had truly felt he didn't deserve to die...Just as he fell backwards, he saw Fiona's arm gently reach forward...and reach out. She didn't run towards him, didn't catch or pull him up...She just reached out, and watched as he slipped back and fell from his only saving grace. Fiona...

"FIIIOOONNNNAAA-!"

Screaming the girl's name, he watched as she seemed to rush towards the edge, and peer over, seeing him fall. She was too late...Her image only lasted a second, he had fallen too fast...Yet it was burned into his eyes, his skull...Her hand clutched to her chest, a look of sorrow on her face. Had she wanted to catch him? Or was she just reveling in his demise...? Watching his last moments?

No. That didn't seem like her...

He remembered thinking he would see her Heaven...Yes, in Heaven. If there was one, she would be one of it's Angels. They would meet again there, he was positive of it. And he recalled that it was the last thought he had before he hit the viaduct, the hard ground. There was a split-second of pain, of smashed, broken bones as they snapped, and cracked his skull open. His brain hemorrhaged, organs exploded, body nothing but liquefied meat and crushed morrow...There was no pain, however, as he looked up at the sky...The black sky, the high tower...Looked up, with eyes that were open, and would remain open...Then the sight itself faded, faded away...

"I'll see her in Heaven..." He thought again.

Then he woke up...A sudden start, he was gasping for breath, heart hammering away inside his chest. His chest that was still there, still whole, intact. It had all felt so real...Too real. It felt like more then just a dream...Almost like it was something that could have actually happened. Yet there was no chance of that, Fiona couldn't get through to that tower without him, and he wasn't going back unless he had to. And there was no way in hell he'd let her hurl him off a water tower. Besides, now the dog was in the palm of his hand...

Before that, he dreamed again about the exam he gave her in the lab. Like a typical dream, reliving that which he had experienced throughout the day. Yet it was eerie, as it was exactly like it...Like a re-living of the whole experience itself. It was unsettling. Only this time, he smeared a goo onto the inside of her eyes, lifting up the lids and rubbing it on the orbs themselves. He was shocked she hadn't woken up. It was a gel he knew of, but never really used. Though he knew the effects from what he read about it in a book of formulations.

It was something he confessed he had considered wanting to use on the girl, it would make escape impossible. Yet he decided against it in the end, there was no need as long as he kept that mutt of a dog away from her. He was positive that creature was finding ways out of everything for her, helped her in making it all the way to the mansion, getting as far away as she did. It angered him, all she had to do was stay put to begin with...

The thing was, to produce the formula, it was quite tiresome and required several hours of time. Not only did he not feel comfortable leaving the girl in the cell that long, but there was no need to if he got the cube done. In the dream, he saw himself making the formula and taking it to the sleeping girl on the table, administrating it, then picking her up, carrying her once again to the tower. This time, however, the dog was left out...and he couldn't understand why he made such a decision. He supposed he was too haughty, too full of pride at the decision to use the formula. The dog was also not injured as badly, and was walking about without much pain at all. He gave the arrogant prick in his dream a mental kick in the ass, and watched as the dog helped the girl, and saw her escape, and then met her in the hallway...

He had to admit he loved the look on her face. Terrified. The formula made only him invisible to her eyes. It was connected and tailor-made to his Azoth, and the more robust he was, the less of him could be seen. As the mongrel attacked him, it weakened him, and he became partially visible to her. It gave her the advantage, and as he chased her up the tower, sans weapon, his arousal grew as he reached the top. More and more. Surely, if he could knock her own now...With his bare, savage hands...He would tear her clothing from her svelte body, spread her legs apart to reveal her pulsating, wet, pussy, and penetrate her ruthlessly. He ceased to care...He was tired of the game. He had to have her...He had to have her now.

Then he cornered her at the top, where he had assumed she had nowhere else to go. Yet it was his downfall...Literally. It was not a pleasant dream, and it was far too vibrant and realistic for his tastes. It almost made him afraid to go back to sleep, he didn't know if he could bare the nightmare again if it decided to recur...

Riccardo looked up at the dog again. His hate boiled anew for a moment, surfing to the top of his madness...Then it sunk when he thought of the girl. She would be pleased with him, he was sure of it as anything. Maybe even love him. Yet the dog had to look a bit more presentable, clean...and happy. He had to please the dog to please Fiona.

And oh, how he wanted to please Fiona...

Hewie looked at the man fleetingly, then back away...Not wanting to lock eyes with him. Riccardo then looked back down at the meat that still sat on the table, at which a fly, on cue, landed on and began to crawl across. Well, he already made up his mind on that slab of animal flesh. He wasn't eating that, that was for sure. Why not kill two birds with one stone? There was no bone in the meat, he didn't have to worry about him choking, and the animal surely had a strong stomach, so he didn't have to worry about him throwing up somewhere from the raw meat. That would not be pleasant to clean up, that was certain. Reaching down, he grabbed a hold of one of the knife's handles, wrenching his fingers around it, and pulled it back, the blade dripping with stale blood.

The dog saw this...and seemed to swallow, his eyes growing larger at the sight...

...Then watched as-instead of plunging it into him-he turned around and tossed it into the sink to be washed later. He did it again with another, until the meat was sitting there, by itself. It was then that Hewie realized how hungry he still was, and that the human seemed to no longer be planning his demise, but...food! The human was making food! His dog instincts kicked in; to beg.

Before Hewie even thought about what he was doing, he had pulled himself off the cold castle floor, and was sauntering across it. He was still hesitant, his ears down, eyes averted, snout towards the ground in submission. Yet his tongue was out, panting, in excitement and hunger. Raw meat was his favorite, he missed it so much from his first alphas. He hadn't eaten that well in such a long time. The second alphas used to give him this bland, boring sort of dry stuff that tasted like a grain. Like a doggie cereal. He never did like it, but learned to put up with it in the very least.

The scarred man looked across the counter, and watched the dog react to his movements. He stopped himself from smiling, admitting it was a rather humorous sight. Hewie sat down behind it, looking up only slightly to see what was happening. The eyes in the dog's skull were pleading, a look of absolute "Please?" there that had no shame in showing itself to his former tormentor. Riccardo looked away, turning around to grab a more suitable knife, a larger one with more serrated edge. He plunged it into the meat slowly, which was loosened up because it had been sitting there decaying for so long. Sawing it unto smaller pieces, he cut some of the gristle away subconsciously, forgetting it was for the dog for a moment, treating it like an actual meal.

Completing the thought, he continued to walk over and towards the cabinet that contained the dishes. He got out a dish, and a bowl. Hewie licked his lips in anticipation as he followed the man as he walked, noticing the way he dragged his feet a little with every stride. Again he disappeared behind the counter, and mindless threw the meat onto the plate, not even rinsing the blood and sticky fluid away. Riccardo had felt he had already spent too much time pampering the mutt. Then he walked to the sink, and filled the bowl with cold water.

Hewie's eyes widened as he watched him move back towards him, walking from behind the island and towards the wall. He whined, mouth opening and closing, tongue sort of licking the outside of his mouth as he made his way.

"I'm coming, mutt...Settle down..." Riccardo muttered to the dog, then groaned tiredly as he bent down, placing the food and water onto the floor.

Riccardo barely had the chance to stand back up, Hewie practically pushing him out of the way to get to the substance put down before him. When he did, he stumbled back, watching as the white shepherd immediately went to the water, surprisingly enough. His pink tongue lapped at the bowl of water, sending the clear fluid all over about him in a puddle. Before his eyes, the water disappeared, it and became apparent to the homunculus that the dog had been very thirsty. He licked the last vestiges of the water away, sending the bowl clanging about the floor, pushing it out of his way. Though most of it had appeared to go on the floor then in his stomach.

Not long after he slugged down the small bowl, he was at the meat. His mouth entrapped around the small slivers, eating them up and only briefly pausing to chew as he swallowed them mostly whole. Riccardo didn't know why, but he found himself picking up the bowl, walking over, and filling it up again. Then it once more was placed next to the food. He didn't stop to think, his parental sort of instinct kicking it to care for something that needed it. For that short moment, Hewie wasn't just a mutt, he was a possession to be prepared, prepped, for delivery. It just so happened to be alive.

It didn't take long for him to down the meat, and quickly go back to the water. He drank half of it, then sort of half coughed-half "burped" from the eating and drinking exertion, then stood and panted for several moments. A white, foamy "phlegm" was on his lips, then went back and laid next to the wall. This time, however, he looked to have wanted to go to sleep. A full stomach, and a long day the previous...He needed it.

Yet Riccardo soon returned to his average mentality; his own selfish needs. Why not? He had done enough for others as it was. It had come a time when he had to attend to himself, wasn't it? He walked towards the fridge once more, trying to find something quick to eat, nothing that needed cooking...Even a microwave. He wondered what Fiona would like when she woke up, like him, she would once again be furiously hungry. Her body depleting it's reserves. He didn't want to have to cook if he didn't have to...yet. He peered in, his hands reaching in, pushing away one jar, one container, one item after another in confusion.

There were jars of milk still left over, meat still on small hooks hanging from the top, dangling down. Yet there were vegetables, fruits, in the lower level. He was never one for a salad or even a carrot, though, he didn't put much into that thought. Cheeses, including some expensive ones from foriegn lands, lay wrapped in cloth on the other. Once again, he was not in that particular mood. He actually began to think of the one item he actually could have a piece of...His stomach lurched for it, and suddenly he remembered that there was still a good bit of it left.

He returned to the upper level, past the containers of jarred vegetables, meats, an unopened cartoon of orange juice he remembered buying a few months ago, and into the back. There it was, hidden like some prize. It was sitting on an ornate, silver platter that was raised up on a platform like some magnificent object.

Pie. Chocolate cream pie, to be precise.

Daniella had made it about a week ago. There was no celebration, the maid just automatically tended to make food tailored to their tastes. She didn't always make desert, they tended not to have sweet tooth's around here, not constantly craving sugar, but they did love it when it was made. He didn't know how Fiona was, whether she liked such desert as much as he did; he knew she wasn't overweight, so she sure didn't eat it by the pound...Either way, the maid made some terrific desert, like a work of art.

It was thick, covered with dark creamy icing, with white marbled in. The black was drizzled on top of it in a stringy pattern, frills around the edges. Just looking at it made his mouth water, and he knew he had to have a piece. He reached in, careful not to drop it. Losing a piece now would be a tragedy. Slowly, he pulled it from the fridge, and then laid it on the counter beside him. He craned his neck backwards, the dog now actually getting back up. He shook his head in irritation as the animal came within a few feet of him, trying to beg.

"Don't even think about it, mutt..."

Hewie drooped his ears, body slumped, and walked back in shame to his spot on the cool floor. He laid down with a "plop" and a sigh of disappointment. Riccardo sort of smiled in self-fulfillment as he looked back at the desert. The peaked frosting on it was calling out to him, and he found himself licking his lips. He quickly made his way over to the cabinet again, got a fork, knife, and plate, and quickly ran back. He cut into the pie, the knife not going through easily as it was still a bit frozen. When he finally did, he slid it onto the plate and walked back over to the island. Knife hit plate as he cut each piece, the edge slicing into the crumbly black crust at the bottom, and barely was able to get each piece into his mouth without falling to the floor. He had to lean down. It was so unGodly good, he found himself nearly moaning from each bite.

Subconsciously, he began thinking of Fiona. The absolute sensation of delicious food in his mouth, exciting his taste buds, was enough to make him think he was practically eating out the woman before him. Delving deeper, straining his tongue to explore harder and straining it to reach the very farthest reaches of her vulva.Then slowly lap and suck at her clit as he rocked it back and forth, keeping the pressure on between stimulation and penetration-

Cutting through the crust, he swallowed the last piece, savoring the moment as he realized it was gone. Oh, God...He had to have her tonight...Already, he had waited too long. He longed for her screams in his ear.

Before he could stop himself, he was cutting another piece, and digging in. Like the first, it was gone before he knew it. He licked the fork and then the plate, sighing at the feeling of fullness and satisfaction of the creamy, chocolaty flavor. Riccardo never worried about his weight, even if he was technically over-weight, but only in muscle. He ate what he wanted, when he wanted, drank wine when he wanted, getting royally drunk off his ass when he felt like it. Luckily enough, they all had wonderful metabolisms, from Lorenzo to Fiona herself, never having to watch what they eat. He was naturally very active, having to manouver and walk amongst the large estate on an almost daily basis, more then even the average person did. Working and lifting happened often around the place, despite his age, he never looked or felt it. He was like a thirty-year-old in a middle age state of mind. Even his body, despite being defective and deficient, aged extremely well.

In this, he was glad. It was bad enough his body was a failing mess of flesh, bone and organs, that his skin was split and falling apart, itchy, painful...In the very least, he was still hearty, strong, overweight only in muscle, not fat, and heart was as strong as an ox while everything else fell apart around it. Riccardo would not die for a long, long time. If disease left him be, then he may very well live longer then Lorenzo ever would, and in better shape. He dearly hoped his legs never gave out, became arthritic and lame. Genetic history proved his hopes otherwise, but it was all he had, hope. He only hoped that the Azoth supplements he took gave him enough shock, enough boost to his system to improve his health and longer his life, youthen it, every time. Aureolus was blessed with a hearty, fast metabolism, a strong and lithe, yet muscular, body that he took care of well. He would not waste it, he would be sure to poor every inch, every ounce, of it into the girl tonight.

And he was positive-sure-absolute-that she would enjoy it. Because he was going to make sure of it.

Riccardo sighed again as he finished the second piece, in content he ran his hand along his stomach. Somehow, he felt a little better now. Soon it would be gone, replaced by the slim stomach and abs that were there. Granted, they were fading with his age...They were not as cut, and he was not as young as he used to be, but he was still something of a specimen. Though nobody would ever guess it from what his face looked like, from what they saw on the outside. He pushed the clothing in, the clothing that always made him look fatter then what he really was. Just a bulge on the stomach, but he pushed it in all the way, to reveal it was flat. Ah yes, good looks and body ran in the family...He knew this from his younger days, when he looked just like Lorenzo in that painting, with scars of course, and Fiona herself proved this.

Although tempted to try another piece, he decided to quit while he was ahead. Any more and he may make himself a little too full, too sick. He had to save at least some appetite for dinner...Ah, he would have to start planning it soon, already. He was going to use the time to help charm his way into the girl's pants, like he intended to do before she ran off to begin with. Use his placid, helpful demeanor to hide his fiery, harsh side just long enough to ease his way, slowly, into his bed. Now he had his chance back, though now that she was aware of everything...It was going to be far more difficult.

The original plan for the girl was much more mundane...simpler, then what it turned out to be. He never intended for her to end up in the mansion, glaring at the extraction chamber. In that moment, his heart skipped a beat in both surprise, and anger. He didn't want this girl to find out about their secrets...Not yet, anyway. He preferred for her to never really actually find out unless something interfered, unless she found out on her own. The idea was to keep her contained in the castle, and really he never even second guessed that she would stay put. Confused and distraught maybe, but not...Horrified. Debilitas seemed to change that, and it was him that chased her through their castle, then gave her enough fear to want to send her even farther. No rest, no comfort...Damned that beast, he made it so much more difficult for him. This all could have went so much easier.

He was going to be kind, gentle, caring...And it wasn't going to be an act. He was going to mean it. Indeed, he would walk around the truth, he would tell her who he was, but not that he was a clone. That he and her father where identical, were brothers, that he technically was her uncle. That the maid was a failed homunculus, that his father and her grandfather were one of the same, and was hiding in the castle like the rat he was, waiting to kill her and harvest her Azoth. That in the garden there was a hulking brute that was only supposed to do as told...

After he killed the old man, he planned to return to his dear Fiona, and woo her. Using fine foods, wines, gently words, condolences about her parents...reassurances that it was going to be alright. Then he planned to put his arms around her in comfort as she cried, then make his move. Kiss her about the neck, gently remove her blouse. If she refused to go ahead, he would stop...Apologize, then try again some other time when she felt even more at ease. Yet he was positive, still, that she would give into his advances. His strong physique would be so imposing, she would be so afraid to say even "no" to him as he covered her body with his. Like a tiny, innocent form as he rocked her into submission with his own body.

Perhaps the next morning, or the next day...He wasn't sure, but when the time was right, he would show her his face. Maybe she would pull it down herself and look upon her father's face. Either way, it would be too late. She would have his seed within her, and most likely be on her way to being pregnant with his child. She would orgasm for him, cum for him, and she would get pregnant...

That he would make sure of. Even now. If he missed his chance this time around, he would keep bedding her every night until she did. Almost constantly. Though nearly infertile, he still had a good chance if he kept trying while she was receptive. He had no impotence problem, could last forever, and no problems achieving or maintaining an erection, and the girl was still young. A young body craved sex nearly constantly once it got it. It needed it. And if he gave her but a taste, she would come crawling back for more. If she reached menstruation without a pregnancy, he would sit back and wait for it to clear, and try again once it did. He would not stop, like a predator waiting to pounce in the shadows.

For the next few days, Fiona's real only home would be in bed.

Enough daydreaming...Riccardo found himself working to his thoughts. He stuck his plate in the sink, leaving the three pieces of pie sitting on the ornate dish, they could warm up a bit for now. Perhaps the girl would enjoy a slice? Either way, it would have to wait. This kitchen was still in need of a clean-up. And it started with the mess that was in that pot, it began to peek into his nostrils a bit, and had a very odd, very rancid smell to it. It reminded him of the smell one receives as they drive down the road in the mid-day sun, dead animals along the road as he whizzed past. This appeared to be the meal Daniella had served Fiona the night before. Whatever it was, it sure smelled bad now, it was far from edible.

The maid usually kept leftovers for him if he was running late for dinner, or didn't show up. So this was most likely meant for him...Well, that was too bad, wasn't it? Just smelling the stuff made him sick...What a waste of perfectly good food. Then an edge of concern crept into him...Had Fiona really eaten this garbage? If so, did it do her any harm? His curiosity got the best of him, and he breathed only through his mouth as he leaned in and over the pot.

What he saw was a human skull, the flesh still hanging off of it in strands. The hair just barely still attached, but mostly flowing freely in the pot about it...Surrounded by a yellowish, brownish liquid, filled with grease spots.

Riccardo didn't react at first...It was more of a shock then horror. This had not been the first time he had seen a dead body, or even a human head. Even before he killed Fiona's meddlesome parents. Yet he wasn't expecting it...And he sure as hell didn't like the concept that Fiona had been fed this disgusting meal...

His stomach lurched, and he suddenly felt as though he was about to toss up all that good food he had just stuffed himself with. He closed his eyes, backed away from the pot, and tried to keep the sensation down. There was the vile, backwash of bile watering about in his mouth. It came so close...Yet it worked, swallowing again and again as he tried to keep his strong stomach passive.

The man took a long, warbling sigh, and shivered. Not much bothered the homunculus, and he had to admit this didn't effect him all that badly. Although the concept of cannibalizing didn't sit well with him, it wouldn't be the end of the world for him, either. It sickened him to think that the very vessel that was going to hold his next incarnation, had just consumed human remains. And from the looks of it...Remains that had been previously soaking in preservatives. He knew what it was from, Lorenzo's collection. It wasn't a pleasant one, but one he knew and had become desensitised by. If the maid had not been dead and currently being buried, he would have slaughtered her himself for doing such a horrid thing to her...He just hoped it wouldn't harm her in the long term, or effect their child.

By not breathing out of his nose, he re-routed it to his mouth, then reached forward as he pulled the pot from it's place on the stove. Quickly, he took off in a slight run, slight hurry, as he tried to get rid of the filthy soup. Had he been a bit more on the normal side, he wouldn't have gone anywhere near it. Been so horrified that somebody had cooked a head that he wouldn't be able to function or go near the stuff. As it was, it was mearly a thorn in his side, something to be gotten rid of. And that he intended to do.

Opening the door, the dog watched as he somehow managed to hold the pot against it as he opened it with his then free hand. It was kicked shut behind him. Hewie didn't see it, but Riccardo ran up the steps, through the alchemy lab door, and outside onto the small flat that led to the courtyard below. The stairway had long since broken apart and fell away, several years ago it was just chipped away and destroyed. Nobody ever came this way, so no attention was payed to it. He supposed with a baby soon to be on it's way, he should at least install a guardrail to prevent any accidents. Since then, there was at least a metal rung ladder, to the left smoke from the chimney bellowed, which was from one of the many fireplaces in the whole present region of the castle. There were several, and this was only one of them.

Running to the edge, he heaved it over. It spilled out and over the edge, the rest of the skull falling, then cracking partially open as it hit the ground. He grimaced at the similarity of the action to his dream the night previous. Not to mention the absolute mess he now had to clean up. Well, it was going to have to wait for now. Though he supposed Debilitas could always handle this. It depended on whether he saw the giant again some time soon. However, he honestly didn't want to. He really didn't care to ever see him again, actually...

Carrying the pot back in one hand, he hastily made his way back to the kitchen. The dog still lay there, exhausted and gazing at him with a wary look upon his face that belayed a total lack of trust. Riccardo gave the animal no heed for now, he would tend to him better when the time came. He went back to the kitchen. It didn't have to be spotless...But it needed to at least look presentable. Same thing with the dining hall...

Riccardo got to work, the result of which was for the girl. But then, what wasn't for that girl nowadays, anyway?

---

The dog looked at him again...

Though he supposed, this time...This time he had a good enough reason too. Even Riccardo couldn't believe what he was doing.

He was kneeling before the animal, a wash cloth in one hand, the other holding him steady. All the while it's gaze shifting from him to the object he was wiping him with. It wasn't so wet that water was drenching him, but it was enough. With each swipe of his hand, the cloth came back dirty and brown. Almost black. The dog really did look like shit, now what he got a better look at him. He was done with the body, but nervously went towards the head, wiping off his face. Even so brazen as to grab Hewie's snout, holding it shut as he got the whole area, and continued back towards the body. The dog's only response was to whine, then shake his head when he finished. Not entirely comfortable. Then he lifted up each foot, got the soot from the paw pads, and like that he was done.

With a disgruntled sigh, Riccardo stood up again, his legs and knees practically snapping from all this recent strain. He was still tired as hell despite his short sleep, which really was more of a nap, and his body always felt the toll. It surprised him he didn't look so bad considering his age and all...And not much surprised him these days. As he did this, the dog took the opportunity to shake, white fur slick and wet as he tried to dry himself. Paying him no heed, he reached onto the counter and re-collected what he had already searched for and cut mere minutes ago. A red ribbon. It came from one of the desks in the castle study, it was ages old and collecting dust. He didn't know what it had ever been used for, if it even was ever used until now...Yet he had it, that was all that mattered presently.

Looking back, he took in the mutt's full appearance. Although a little wet, he did indeed look cleaner. Only one thing would complete the picture, what he had in his hand. The dog shrunk away only slightly as he approached, but gave in the moment he felt the ribbon tie about his neck, he stopped. Riccardo tried to be hasty, yet careful. He wanted it to look nice, he didn't know why he gave a damn, but he did...And tried to finish before he stopped asking himself questions.

He tied it into a large bow, trying his best to make it look good. Now the dog looked like a Christmas present far before it's time. Pulling away and standing up, he got another good look at the animal. Perfect. Hewie shook and the bow spun about, but still remained intact and looking good. He smiled a bit to himself and made a noise of approval in his throat. Yes, this would do nicely.

Right now, he was unsure what time it was. He knew it was late morning, that the sun wasn't even out yet. It should have been, but today looked like a much moodier, downcast day then yesterday, which was actually quite nice. Riccardo didn't want to take it as a premonition as to what the rest of the day would be like. After all, if yesterday was so sunny and warm, then things should have went rather nice. They didn't. There was a sort of mist still in the air, the kind one could smell. It would most likely rain today as it did nearly every British day. Though on a day like today, it would at least be expected to grow worse. He was just glad he was in this warm, fire-lit castle, which actually tended to stay pretty warm in the cooler months of the year. It wasn't cold yet for this time in September, but it wasn't getting warmer, that was for sure. The nights did have a small chill to them already.

Regardless, it was time for her to wake up. She had been asleep for about three hours now. Although not a full nights rest, she would get that tonight...Afterwords. He was sure he would tire her out. Being tired and drunk, as he planned to make her, would make her easier to take advantage of, to seduce if she wasn't in the right frame of mind. Although he did want her full and not starving, it was essential for the baby to have a strong framework to grow on. If he had the chance sometime today, he would try and mix some of that pre-natal formula he had developed some weeks ago into her food or drink.

Riccardo took one more once-over at the kitchen, it was satisfactory. So was the dining hall. Though he had the feeling she wouldn't even come to dinner tonight unless forced. She would most likely sprint about the castle all day trying to get out. Well, she can do whatever she wants. She wasn't getting out. It would all be an exercise in futility. Perhaps he could even chase her down again if he was feeling more energetic by the end of the day.

Subconsciously, he found himself fixing his clothes, making himself look presentable to the girl. Tightening the rope on his waist to make him look even thinner, smoothing back the small amount of hair on his head. Nothing was sticking up, it was shaved and always was, but he wanted to be sure...Had there been a mirror in the room he probably would have looked at himself to make sure. Then he stopped himself and realized he was being ridiculous...He looked the same in her eyes, no matter what. A freak that looked like her father, a murderer, a potential rapist. It didn't matter if the rope on his waist was a little loose, but in a way...He still hoped she would notice his attempt to at least try and look good. Though he knew she wouldn't.

"Come, mutt.." He mumbled, just barely, and went towards the door leading to the stairs.

The dog, despite being tired, wanted to know where exactly this cracked-man was going now. All he had been doing for an hour straight was rushing back and forth like mad. Strangely organized despite the circumstances. Then he tied this weird collar about his neck...He was eager to get it off when he had the chance to sit and scratch at it. Right now, there were more fascinating things afoot. He followed the man out the door, hearing the command "come" and recognizing it. As he followed, he was led out the door...And could scent the more recent scent of Fiona in the air, a scent trail still viable in the surrounding molecules.

Instantly, Hewie followed. He fled up the steps, a whine in his throat as he approached the door to the open corridor. Riccardo was calm and rather laid-back about it all. Slowly, he ascended the long staircase, body racked with nerves and stress. His psychopath ways meant he was fearless...But when it came to impressing a potential recipient of his seed...He actually could feel the butterflies in his stomach. The fact that he was still so damn tired didn't help.

Hewie sat there at the door, looking at the homunculus as he approached. There was a slight look of irritation in his face; he didn't like to be hurried. Especially not in this state. He leaned forward over the dog, and opened the door. It swung open, and the dog took off again down the hall. He let out a bark as he did so, but he paid the animal no heed or worry. The last Riccardo saw the girl, she was dead asleep. She wasn't going to wake up over a mere noise, and even if she did...What would wake her up was already far on it's way.

Again, the dog sat at the door. Only this door led directly into the guest suite. A bedroom designed soley for only the very special guests at the castle. It hadn't been used for years until now. And what use it had stood up to. Now the mutt whined as he looked at the room, gaze going to the bottom to the doorknob, and back. Obviously, he wanted to enter. Now. He could smell Fiona. In live form. Not a trial, not residual...But her.

Just as a bark of excitement and pining was about to enter the animal's voice, Riccardo's hand gripped the knob, and like that, was turned. Hewie took the opportunity, and pushed the door open with his mass as he squeezed through. The man saw her still there, in the bed...Still sleeping in that perfect position that he had put her into before. Her chest was gently raising and falling, barely making a sound. What surprised him was how utterly comfortable and at peace she looked. No tossing, turning, even her breath was slow and rhythmic. She could have went on like that for hours had he let her. Yet he had long decided that it was time for his sleeping beauty to awaken, and with a kiss...However, it would not be from him.

Without haste, Hewie ran to his other alpha. An absolute euphoria overcame him as he realized she was still here. Still alive, still okay...Excitement arose in his system, and his tail began to wag in circles at the rate of a WWII plane's propeller. Without the thought process of "rudeness" or courtesy of a human, he ran right up at full speed, large ribbon bouncing, and laid a large, wet kiss on his master's face. Tongue lapping on her lips and nose.

Riccardo winced in disgust, crossed his arms, and waited.

She felt her heart heaving in her chest, her body racked with fear as her mind spun...Running along the castle floor, she looked back, and a man...The man was on fire! Screaming, she turned forward, then back again, he was gaining...!

Fiona awoke slowly, the edges of her dream fading away, she remembered little but the very end of it, and it still puzzled her. Yet it was forgotten quickly, when she realized somebody was putting their mouth all over hers. Immediately she assumed the worse, and jerked back instinctively and moaned loudly. Then her eyes opened all the way, focused...

"Hew..Hewie!"

Her heart exploded as she felt her chest nearly cave in. Or at least it felt like it was about to cave in, bottoming out into her stomach and making her queasy with joy. Pulse tripling, going at such a fast and frightening rate that she swore it was going to pop right out of her body. It couldn't be...She saw the dog laying on the ground, quite possibly close to death. He had been shot, Riccardo shot him! How did he, how...? It wasn't possible...She almost didn't want to reach out, in fear she was still dreaming and was in for a horrible discovery and her hopes were about to be crushed.

The dog sat there, tail wagging impossibly fast behind him. He always seemed to know when to be calm when he had to, and now was the perfect example. Despite his enthusiasm, he kept his butt on the floor, knowing that over-exuberance may be a bit too much too soon. His mouth remained open, tongue out and panting as it contrasted brightly on his now slightly cleaner coat. Now that they beheld his master, they turned into jewels that seemed to gleam even clearer to the girl.

"You...You can't...No, this isn't real...It's a dream..."

This time such words were not frightened, but disbelieving. She turned onto her side almost if hypnotized, her vision stationary as her body moved. The blankets shifted about her form, sliding partially off of her as she put one arm beneath her, holding herself off to better see the dog...Whether real or not.

"...Hewie?"

Tears began in her eyes, overwhelming her in absolute joy and relief. If Hewie was here, then...Then she was safe. No Riccardo to worry about, no concern, he would protect her forever...If Hewie was here, Riccardo couldn't be. It was simple...It meant she could finally be free. She began to reach forward, and then the dog finally reacted, and raised onto his rear legs. His chest rested on the bed before her as his front paws laid on her, careful yet plaintive, and he covered her with his licks. She immediately began to giggle happily as her arms encircled about him, giving a hug in a rather human-like manner. Her face burried into the dog's soft and now strangely moist fur, and she knew now it was real. She was safe again, and everything was going to be okay, she really did worry for a while there-

There was something new about the animal's neck. She knew she never put it there, she never put anything on the dog during her venture out of the castle. That is, until she tied the bandage about his leg. And as she glanced down as she still held the dog in her arms, she saw it had long since been replaced with a medical bandage. She could barely see it, yet it was the only hairless part on the dog's visible body. The bow was red, and digging into her skin as she hugged the beast, it was fluffy and got in her face. Her whole body still racked with happy tears, flowing from her eyes freely as her chest heaved, crying from sheer and utter relief. Yet as the tears fell, the dog licked them away just as quickly, never having the chance of leaving her face and hitting the ground. His tail never did stop.

It was then when everything sort of hit Fiona face-first, she took a clearer look at the situation. The bow looked old and worn, like it had been sitting about somewhere cluttered for ages. He had been made to look like a gift...And there was only one man relatively capable of doing this, one person alive in this castle besides that creature chasing her earlier, one man who's eyes she now felt on her stronger then ever.

She looked up, and saw Riccardo standing there in the door way. He was leaning against it rather casually, something that seemed out of character for him. Yet she didn't know much about this man at all, for all she knew he did that all the time. To complete the look, his arms were folded neatly and strongly against his chest, his gaze tilted down to look at her in an intense manner. Analyzing everything, her reaction, her tears. A small smile was on his lips, and it grew even wider when he saw that he noticed her. Yet he never said a word. Not one.

Fiona's eyes welled up with further tears as she promptly turned away from his intense gaze, and knew she had to give some sort of thanks...He had brought back her dog. Something he didn't have to do, something that was most likely very difficult for him, and as much as it pained her...She knew it wasn't like her not to say-

"Thank you..."

It was said in the lightest voice she could manage, she could barely even hear herself, through choked-up tears. Yet the tone was true, it was real. Above all, she meant it. Her eyes met his once more as the words came from her mouth, and then they looked back down at the dog again.

Riccardo didn't say a word, not even a nod of acceptance, just continued to smile. His eyes sort of lit up as he leaned forward onto his feet, uncrossed his arms, and began to walk back out the door. He turned his head to look back as he did so, steps echoing away as he slowly walked back and down the steps. Leaving the girl- surprisingly to her- alone with her dog.

Now she was just confused, but admittedly even more relieved. Hewie finally stood back down, all four paws on the ground. She took the opportunity, heart still thudding away from shock both from the dog and seeing Riccardo again, she pulled the sheets and blanket from the bed and shifted her body about. For a moment she sat there on the bed, taking everything in. It weighed so heavily on her shoulders, on her whole body. She still felt exhausted, though the sleep did help her a good bit. Although drained, tired...She couldn't help but feel warmer now, somehow like the long nap had done her a bit of good. Looking out the window, she could tell it was day. Though not dusk and beyond noon, and it was cloudy. The ceiling fan still went about overhead, and for a moment wondered just where the switch was to shut the damn thing off. The fire had gone out in the fireplace, and the clock was constantly ticking loudly as always.

She continued to sit there for a good while; not sure particularly why. There was still so much of her that was so very tired, yet her quickly beating heart and absolute fear kept her from wanting to lay back down on the bed for a longer sleep session. Though she had to admit it was tempting. Even now she struggled to stand up, she didn't want to face the day...Go into this castle again, go back where she just came from and struggled so hard to escape in the first place. Didn't want to meet up with Riccardo again and whatever he had in store for her...There was a reason why he brought that dog to her, to butter her up and make her easier to work with. She knew it. Fiona would be lying her herself if she didn't feel some sort of gratitude...But showing it would make her appear weak, like a victim in his eyes. She hated that man with all her flesh and soul, and for such a person being to do something so personal, so...gracious...It made her sick, it made her feel terrible. She almost wished he never did it at all..

Yet to have the dog here, it was worth all those horrid feelings. Worth her feeling absolute disgust for that man for trying to "gift" his way into her good graces. He never did say a word, though that smug look on his face said it all. Said more then any word that he could have uttered. She suddenly wanted to take back the "thank you" she uttered under her own personal pressure, though she knew that she could not. Hewie laid down, that huge bow of his being pawed off as he yawned. It was a loud yawn, too, with a wide mouth and a shake of his head. She smiled and tried to forget the scarred man and all his horrible deeds for just a moment. Her dog was back. It didn't matter how...

Fiona leaned forward off the bed, and very slowly fell onto the floor on her hands and knees. Not yet having the energy to stand up all the way, she crawled forward just a little, and came across Hewie as he lay there. Already she could feel the hot tears returning to her eyes, flowing down and out like rivers. The dog looked up, tail wagging again as he had a bright expression on his face. She reached around and removed the bow, untying it without any real care or concern for who originally put it there, ripping it partially. Angerly, she tore it off, and threw it, and realized that she was sobbing. Sobbing so hard she couldn't even catch her breath, couldn't keep it in. She then fell onto the white animal, hugging him a little too tightly. But Hewie didn't struggle, didn't walk away. He stood there, letting the smaller girl lay atop his larger form, and licked her tears away.

For a good half hour she did this, thoughts running about through her head. What had happened. What was happening...What would happen. The crash, Riccardo's involvement in it all...The giant man, the insane maid, the scarred clone that resembled her father, the craven old man. They all were so different in numerous ways, yet strangely all alike. All mad and bewitched, all supposed creations from the hands of one another. Riccardo her uncle, that old man her supposed grandfather. It was shocking still, and she had no idea how this would all effect her for the rest of her life. Even if she was to have a "life" per say after this...If it would even ever be over.

...If she could even escape.

Somehow, she felt less sure of the idea then she did before. She hated this place. Hated it's inhabitants...Especially that damn Riccardo. He was too charming for his own good, actually succeeding in making her feel more at ease and more comfortable around him and the whole castle. Deep down inside she knew this was a dangerous man, one capable of anything if he just put his mind to it. A crazed man had a crazed mind...Therefore full of inhibitions and desires that didn't belong there. No hindrance, no remorse for those that got in his way. No care. No regrets. Even now, he terrified her. After all he had done for her, he saved her life-

Suddenly, she didn't know why or really even notice it, but she already began to think of the man in a more considerate light. For a moment she began to go through all the positive things he had done for her, looking for them actively. Saving her from the hulking giant, then later Lorenzo. Fixing her wounds, carrying her to a place to rest, fixing her breakfast...And now, the dog. All of it done without a thank you, without even asking it to be done in the first place. It racked her mind, and she didn't understand why she was thinking this way, horrible men don't deserve to be looked upon like this...Cast in a positive light. What was the point, what was she trying to prove to herself?

Fiona convinced herself she was just trying to make the best of a bad situation, that's all. Once she felt well enough to do so, she would flee. Her and her dog, regardless of the man's good intentions. For beneath them lay those of perversion. She wanted to think of this man better then he was, just as one hopes the murderer sitting in the defendant's stand was innocent and not guilty. However, this murderer was surely guilty, and not just of murder...Of things that boggled her mind in their absolute scope of "wrongness" and unethical proportions. Cloning, this forbidden alchemical science that played God.

Her heart throbbed to attention once more in her chest. She had to get out...She had to get out as soon as possible. Once she did, Riccardo could be put in jail. She was sure of it. Just find the police, she convinced herself, find them and tell them-

...Tell them what?

A new concept came to the girl's attention. If she did make it out- no - when she made it out..Where would she go? If she did find the police, just what was she going to tell them? If she told the truth, she may very well be labeled insane, just as bad as the people in this place. Yet if she fabricated a story, something told her she could never hold it together, being looked upon as suspicious. Could she blame them? Even she couldn't believe what happened here. If they did come here, who's to say they would even find anything incriminating? What had happened to her parent's bodies? Were they disposed of, or left to rot?

The more she thought about it, the more she knew she couldn't go to the police...In that case, where was she to go? She had no money, she was in a foreign land, home across the ocean in America. None of this place was familiar to her, she didn't even understand the currency for God's sake. Her luck she would be raped or murdered in the midst of seeking a hotel or other place to stay. Even Hewie couldn't help her all the time, couldn't be with her every second of the day. What if the dog ran off, left her alone? How would she live from now on? This place would surely give her nightmares forever, make her afraid to even leave the house, let alone go back to school, get a job, meet somebody...

Have a life. Even when she got out of this murderous hell-hole, she may never again have a life...

Nothing was ever going to be the same again, not ever. She was dirtied and stained, and nothing would wash herself clean of it. Of this place...and his hands.

Now that the girl actually had a minute to think about her situation, go past hope and fear, blind faith. She realized there were holes in her plan. Like what to do afterwords. She had been too busy fleeing, escaping her family in both physical form and in past, that she never considered what would actually happen once she got out. There were miles of forest that they had to travel through to get here, before that many, many small towns of both the charming sort and run-down like they were ready to fall apart. The largest town she knew of that they traveled through was called Salisbury, and that was so far away she knew she could never walk there. She would have to catch a ride, ask somebody for a phone to call police, something...

Her crying increased, and she then realized that even if she did make it out...There was no doubt in her mind that Riccardo would soon discover her absence, and find her. She could flee into the woods perhaps, but something told her that the chase wouldn't last long. Already she could see it in her head, her imagination running wild. The glare of a flashlight upon her as she ran into the thicket, and his footsteps. Hewie's bark, silenced with a gun shot. She would fight, she would run, but he would grab her by the waist and pull her back into that black death machine he used as a car. And this time, she feared he wouldn't be so gentle.

A squelching, horrible feeling twisted her gut as she thought more about him and his intentions. The freak of a man that looked so familiar. Any time she saw him, the first thought that arose in her mind was "daddy!", then she got a full glimpse, and realized that her false hopes were already dashed. It was his face, his body, but warped and split, changed. Not right. His touch was rough, dried and calloused. Cracked. Voice a bit deeper and charming then her father's, dragged more, just like his feet as he walked. His eyes a dark blue, not his father's odd green-like bronze. That hair, short but shaved that way. She briefly wondered if he did it by choice or was another side-effect of his strange deformity. And then his personality, it was like a switch. On and off. Angry and frightening one minute...Perverse, and just as frightening the next. Collected, unfeeling, un-fazed. This man scared her to death even when he wasn't chasing her.

Although his intentions with her were clear, that he wanted to fuck her...Basically. It still seemed strangely hazy. He had gotten very close, he touched her down there, touched her everywhere, but had yet to do anything truly in the sexual nature. It led her to believe that he was either waiting for the right moment, or was all talk. She had no idea why he would do such a thing, always talk about it but never do. Never take action. A man as uncaring and psychopathic as him would surely have raped her long ago...right? She felt no real difference between her legs, despite being penetrated with that stick, there was no pain or bleeding. No real sensation in her mind that he had his way while she was asleep. What was this man planning? Was the "gift" of Hewie just a part of his grand plan?

The thought of becoming pregnant never really were thoughts or worries on Fiona's mind. Even now it wasn't a concern, she simply wouldn't let it happen to begin with, no sex equals no baby. Before, when she saw a mother with her baby, she would simply smile and nod. She had to admit that she didn't give being a mother any real consideration. There was no real desire to have a child, not the overpowering one many girls and woman had. She supposed one day she would meet a man, get married, and have children...But the concept held no whimsy for her. No classical, wonderful allure that it was supposed to. To her, it seemed like another trap, another way to hold her down in life. Yet she knew one day it would happen, not because she desired it so, or because she was always so beautiful and attractive, but because her parents demanded it so...

Her parents...

Although the death of them have long since hit home before now...She never really thought much about it in the serious sense. So busy fleeing this and hiding from that, she never had the chance to mourn them. And yet...She felt it odd, like she should be. As just about all children naturally do, she loved her mother and father, but...

...Why did she feel so...Relieved?

---

He stood behind the kitchen counter, getting a plate and fork ready. When he left Fiona, he decided to give the girl a few moments to collect herself. He didn't say a word, didn't approach her, he wanted her a clean slate when she woke up. No pressure meant more comfort. Yet he hoped her hunger would drive her down to the kitchen so that he may feed her again. Part of it was to put much needed sustenance in her belly, another was to get a chance to talk to her. He would love for her to start depending on him, asking for lunch would be a nice step in the proper direction. Though he supposed it was a long shot. The girl ran about all day yesterday with only that maid's disgusting meal inside her. Surely, even with breakfast devoured, she would still be very hungry. He hoped so, anyway.

Then he paused, and listened...Yes, there it was footsteps coming down the stairs. He knew immediately that it had to be the girl's. Too light to be the gardener's, and numerous enough to know the dog was with her. Before he could even begin to worry about the concept, the door was opened cautiously, his heart fluttered surprisingly quickly into his chest, and Fiona very carefully stepped through. She looked to the left as she entered, missing him, then she looked right. Immediately, her eyes widened, and she went to step backwards back into the stairway, ready to close the door behind her.

"Fiona!" He called after her, and she actually stopped mid-way, hands on the doorknob to shut it as her body was on the other side.

"...Now, don't run from me...I believe we already established that there was nowhere to go..."

For a moment, nobody moved. He could see her hands shaking slightly on the door...She was still so very terrified of him, and he really couldn't see why this time around. Before he was chasing with her, furious that he had run from her in the first place. Now he was being even more courteous, and she still was giving him the slip. He didn't like to be defied, to be spat in the face like that...He had a hair-trigger temper and a very obvious split personality. As long as his trigger wasn't set, he was rather pleasant to be around. If Fiona knew what was best for her, she wouldn't dare try to do it again. Even he couldn't control his own self sometimes.

When Fiona realized that the man wasn't running towards her, she began to let her guard down just a smidgen. As long as she didn't run...It was like she was the rabbit, frozen in the yard. And he was the hungry dog watching for movement. Weakness. Ready to pounce. As long as she was slow, as long as she moved like the cautious little bunny she was, she would be fine...She hoped.

Slowly, she tried to back out of the room. Letting go of the door and ready to close it behind her. Not a word squeaked out her throat, trying not to trigger this predatory beast's chasing mechanism. Yet it appeared this was not enough for the man. He called after her again when he noticed her new intent.

"My dear..." He chimed, it caught her off guard. His voice was light and charming again.

"Are you not hungry?"

Fiona shivered at being addressed in such a manner. She wanted out of here, she didn't want to "settle in" much less sit down and eat anything. There was a way around the kitchen to get outside, where her second chance of getting out resided. Though she knew there was no real way out through the mansion as promised by the old man, she could only hope she missed or ran by something that was there. Perhaps there was a way down around that cliff, a second gate somewhere. And she had to do it all while being complacent around her captor. If she made it look like she wasn't trying to find a way out...

Before she could try to even formulate a plan of action, Hewie acted upon his. The dog was still in the mood for that pie, he somehow assumed he was inclined to it. Unbenowost to Fiona, he had nuzzled his nose between her legs and the doorway, and was trying to find his way into the kitchen. Fiona went to reach for him, but he snuck in, her breath caught in her throat. She suddenly remembered all the horrible things that man did to the dog, trying to smack or hit him, barely missing at times but making contact on the odd occasion. Then of course, shooting and actually injuring the animal at the point that allowed for her capture. What would he do this time? Did he still have his gun? Suddenly, concern drove her into the kitchen, going around the door and leaving it hang open.

Hewie ran forward only slightly, and so did she only slightly. She didn't take into account that she still wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts jiggled for the hated man very freely as she ran. Yet Riccardo's eyes only glanced briefly at the sight, for the dog before him had actually caught his attention. Hewie noticed the girl chasing him, and stopped. He stood there across from Riccardo still behind the counter, yet wasn't even looking at the man. His whole demeanor was relaxed, hackles down and tongue out and panting with a carefree gaze back at his female alpha.

Riccardo's eyes widened only slightly at the animal. Now that the dog was with Fiona, he had to admit there was a new fear that he may now have something to protect. Before, he was using fear and dominance to overcome the dog...Now, what? He would have his old owner back. Would it make a difference? He feared this...Now came the moment of truth for the beast.

And the girl saw the same thing. She stood there, like a deer in headlights not but a few feet behind that troublesome mutt. Quickly, worriedly, she looked from the dog, to him, then back. She noticed the unease in Riccardo's features, though she tried not to notice anything about him, much less glance him in the eye. Now she knew was her chance, sicc the dog, and run...

"Go, Hewie!"

The man's eyes widened just a little, and he stepped away from the counter. Immediately, his hand went to his gun at his hip, but hovered there. This time he would not shoot if he had to, but still he was in that "self-defense" mode. His survival mattered now. He had to live on, in the very least, to plant his seed within the girl...

...Yet the dog didn't move.

It was quite the odd sight. At the command, the dog froze. He stood there, looked left to right, a sort of whine developing in his throat. Then he looked straight at Riccardo, and didn't even acknowledge he was there. Hewie moved forward, pounding about the room in long footsteps as he searched for the potential threat. He found none, then put his nose to the stone floor and sniffed about. No real items, either. He looked at Fiona with a sad gaze, eyes downcast and ears drooped. Another whine emitted, and he looked at her in disappointment.

Fiona stood there, stuttering, in disbelief. And Riccardo couldn't help but smile. He smiled wide, and he laughed a haughty, arrogant tone in his throat. Seeing her like this was positively wonderful. Her defenses dropped, innocent as a newborn child and just as weak. She was like a sitting duck, her only friend betraying her and sending her literally into the jaws of a wolf. This dog was still her protector, but now his list of whom to protect her from just got shorter. He was an alpha in the eyes of this creature, the either now an equal to him or even slightly below in the chain of command. Her plans being foiled overcame him joy as her face fell in hoplessness, just like how he told her of his true origins on that cliff, and he laughed from sheer joy as it blew her mind and caused her to faint. He loved it, and he loved this moment just as much. Now, she was fucked. And soon, she would know the full extent to which she really was.

"Fiona..." He said amongst the chuckle, and shook his head in amusement.

"...You amuse me. You truly do. I saved that mutt's life. You really think he's going to hurt me?"

He said this all as he slowly walked from behind the counter. Slowly, he turned and came to stop in front of the dog. Now he knew, and it came rather quickly. The way to this girl's heart, and into her good graces, was through this dog. Already, by not attacking him, he had to automatically look better in her eyes. In the end, it really didn't matter to Riccardo how the evening went, so long as it arrived in the same place. In bed, together. Yet he wanted this to go smoothly enough so that she would be far easier to work with. He could jump this girl, penetrate and release into her without fail. But the long term-results wouldn't be very appealing. He didn't want a sobbing, miserable Lady in his castle. It was bad enough he had to go through all of this hassle that marred her forever, and destroyed his first impression of her. Raping her would make his life a living hell, for as long as he had. And for some reason that he couldn't quite understand...He still wanted her to feel pleasure, feel affection towards him...He needed it, craved it. His mentality was an egotistical, perverted, and deranged one, one that couldn't understand or comprehend the feelings of others, feel sympathy...

...Then why did he care? Why did he want to touch, pleasure this girl so badly? This didn't make any sense...This wasn't him. There was always something that gratified him about pleasuring a woman, perhaps because it made him feel better about himself to see that he could, indeed, instill something besides fear in another being. For those few moments in bed, he was not a monster...He was a lover. It was what kept him relatively sane all those years, and without it, he lost even more of his humanity. Riccardo may have been crazy, may not have been "right" in the head, less likely to develop strong, emotional attachments to others...Yet compassion was not unknown to him, and although it was driven by lust and a craven desire that even he couldn't fully comprehend to have a son, it was still a desire. This would work. It had to. There was no other way. Everyone is more or less mad on one point. This just happened to be his.

The girl suddenly erupted with tears, and this time when she spoke, it was in a yell directed at him. It was angry, defeated, sad.

"You're the one that shot him in the first place!" She cried, sounding enraged at first, then petered at in the end to a sad tone. "You're a monster!"

Riccardo's reaction was what she expected, he just grinned back with that horrible smile again. Another laugh filled the small room, and he tilted his head just slightly at the girl, and took a few nonchalant steps forward as he peered towards his feet. Not wanting to scare her by making direct eye contact. He was still in a good mood from taming the dog and finally apprehending Fiona. Even her actions couldn't spoil it now, only amuse him.

"I only hurt when I have to, miss Fiona..." Her name said in an almost sarcastic way. "Otherwise..."

Another step forward, but she didn't notice. Her hands were on her face, obscuring her eyes in despair, and his footfalls were quite light as he slowly advanced. He took the opportunity, like a wolf to a fallen lamb.

"...I tend to be very gentle..."

Fiona gasped loudly when she realized the man took the small sliver of time she was unawares to advance...And now was at her side. She didn't react at first, she froze in fear and slowly brought her hands down. Hewie watched with a mild fascination, that pie in the back of his head. He felt the unease rising from the girl; but decided long ago the male had claimed her as his, and was now her alpha. What went on between those two was none of his business, and he didn't want to be corrected for interfering.

Like in her dream, the man was frighteningly close. He wasn't in her face, but it was far too close for comfort. She was reminded of the water tower, when he would try to touch her. Now he just stood mere feet away, hands behind his back, tilting his head at her like she was some sort of curiosity. He so wanted to touch her, but refrained for now, holding back. Instead, he decided to give her a break from all sexuality for now. Let her see how much of a dear he could be.

"Now, are you hungry?"

"I just ate..." She tried, although she had to admit she could, indeed, go for a real meal. One that didn't put her to sleep.

It was just a few strips of bacon, some eggs, and that milk drink she had to give credit was pretty damn good. Yet her body seemed to devour it quickly as she slept. It wasn't a long nap, she could tell by the clock in the guest suite how much time had passed. Just a few hours, however it felt so much longer. During those hours, early morning was slowly turning into mid-day, though she could see by passing through the open hallway that it was quite the dreary day. It looked about ready to rain, and dearly hoped it would not. Things were miserable enough as it was, she didn't need the weather impeding her chances of escape.

"...Only a few hours ago, and that was only breakfast. Surely, you must still be hungry."

She shook her head, looking away. 'Just go away.' she thought to herself, praying he would leave her be. 'Just leave me alone!' Too afraid to actually say it out loud.

"Come, dear. I promise you'll love it. It's chocolate pie, and it's very good...I didn't bake it, if that helps..."

For a moment, the girl's eyes lit up, then faded quickly. She had to admit, she hadn't eaten anything really...Good in so long. They were a busy family, meals usually were the kind that were heated up quickly in the microwave or the kind one prepared in minutes on the stove. It wasn't junk food, actually considered gourmet meals in their own right. Healthy...Too healthy. Her parents were health-food nuts. Everything had to be fruits, vegetables and whole-wheat bread. They rarely bought meat, and when it was, it was fish or chicken. Pie, cakes, ice-cream were unheard of. Salads, crackers, bread made up her diet, cereals, soups, the very occasional pasta that was filled with so many vegetables it made her almost sick to eat. She grew up with it and learned to like it, even look forward to it, but she always craved what she wasn't "allowed" to have. When she went out...Which didn't happen often, she would try her best to obtain such food. Yet it was still hard, and getting caught was never a pretty sight...

They would call her a "fat pig" for indulging in such foods. Tell her she just shortened her life, was going to die young. They'd pound her with stats and information on obesity, fat and cholesterol content in foods, practically lecture her until she promised them with tears in her eyes that she would never do it again. Even the food that she just consumed that very morning was a massive "heart attack" in her parents eyes. Bacon, eggs, and even honey mixed with milk would be a major "no-no" and would never see the light in her home. At the time she was so overwhelmed from the experience, she never really fully enjoyed the taboo she had just performed, devouring such potentially "wrong" foods with nobody to tell her not to...And for that matter, the only one that was here urged her to do so. Now he had...Pie? Chocolate pie, at that?

There was a genuine desire to give in and let him serve her that pie, just a slice...Her mouth actually started to water at the thought, and every desire she ever had flamed forward and grew at the concept. Images of what it could look like popped into her head, she imaged what it would taste like on her tongue. Still, the revulsion of eating anything in this castle kicked in, even if he didn't make it..Before she could stop herself, she let loose a question.

"...Then who did?"

Riccardo actually looked a bit surprised by this question, he was hoping she wouldn't ask...

"...The...Maid."

He stopped, and saw her face contort into disgust. Then he realized he should have lied, though he wasn't the type.

"But- it, it was last week. It's perfectly fine, I've had several pieces. It's just fine, my dear."

The strong, murderous homunculus found himself actually stuttering in front of the girl. A girl. Somebody old enough to be his daughter, technically was her daughter, weak, powerless, in a silken nightgown and looking away from him...All to gain her approval. He couldn't believe himself. He was terrified of upsetting her, not gaining her approval. Just eat. He had no idea why he wanted to see it so badly, but he wanted to see the girl start to thrive in the place. He was rushing this process far too fast. And he knew it, too.

"I'm not hungry." She stated, clear.

"Please, Fiona. You look about ready to fall over-"

"I said no! Leave me alone!"

This surprised him, and he winced, taking a step back. For a moment he considering correcting the girl with a good slap to the ground. But again, his good mood kept his psychosis in check. He took a step back, sighing in disappointment. Indeed, he was too fast. More time was needed.

"Fine." Came his tone, but it was downcast, disappointed.

Riccardo turned from her, giving her glances over his shoulder as he walked away. She wasn't sure what was more surprising, the fact that he was offering her pie of all things, but that he was actually walking away from her, leaving her be. Respecting her wishes. The girl took a long breath, releasing the shudder she had been keeping down when in front of him.

"...There is more clothing in the dresser upstairs if you would like to change."

He stopped before going back behind the counter, looking back as his hand grazed over the flat surface. His face an expression of sudden acquired patience.

"If you need anything, my dear...Anything at all...Don't be afraid to ask. I meant what I said, this castle is all yours..."

She looked to him in curiosity, her hands at her side, her stance defensive and prepared in case he tried anything.

"...And now, so am I."

This shocked her, surprisingly enough. She gave him a quizzical look, and he smiled back in his trademark way. Then, like a ghost gliding across the floor, he walked towards the door to the dining hall. He put his hand upon the knob, then turned his head slightly in her direction before he left.

"Dinner is served at six. I'll find you when it's ready."

Then he opened the door very fluidly, and stepped out, closing it behind him as it echoed rather dramatically in the old castle. There was a split second where Hewie was watching the man exit, and moved a step forward almost as if to follow him. She noticed this, and was practically floored, shocked and abhorred...The dog was with him long enough to have some sort of bond, a respect, and that was enough to keep him from being considered an enemy. For a moment her stomach curled up, cramped, and she couldn't move. She felt as though she no longer wanted anything to do with the mutt...He could have saved her...

A wealth of feelings overcame Fiona. Hate. Despair. Betrayal...All aimed at both her companion, the dog, Riccardo, and even herself. A small part of her screamed out beneath it all. The part of reason and common sense. Let him help you. He's terrible, sure...But he's helpful. He had food, he offered anything she needed. Perhaps she could have reasoned with the man. Maybe if she offered him what he so wanted, he would let her go-

No! No! God, what was she thinking? Was she really that desperate? It seemed like such an easy way out, but she knew she could never do it. Her skin crawled just thinking about him touching her, that statue he made her was bad enough, let alone the message he was trying to convey to her. Now was her chance, if she was going to escape today, now was the chance. Riccardo may have been wondering about the castle unhindered, but she could go the other way if she had to. In the least she could take her time, wasn't going to be chased by that hulking giant or crazy maid, or by it's demented, sex-craven butler.

Carefully, she turned around and walked towards the door. The dog snapped to attention and trotted after her, but she said nothing. Even friends had moments of indifference, even hate. Right now, Fiona didn't so much as want to look at the animal, it took everything in her power to prevent herself from yelling her brains out at the mutt. Damned mutt...If he helped her out of here in some small way, perhaps she would forgive him.

Opening the door and stepping through, she allowed the dog to follow her despite her anger. She swore the dog picked up on it, his posture slouched and at a considerable distance from her. Then she climbed the steps, her whole body still aching and tired from the unbearable strain her body had went through the day previous. Her muscles twitched with fatigue, stretched to their limit. It took her longer then it should have to make her way to the top, then she had to stop and rest, chest heaving.

...Riccardo had been right. She was ready to fall over.

The last thing she wanted to do was stay in this place. Especially with that man wondering about somewhere in the castle. Somewhere she also knew that debilitated child-man also dwelled, and although she still feared him...Somehow, she knew. He wouldn't bother her anymore, he was harmless. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. The mind-numbing, heart bursting fear of the first day and night was lessoned, and she felt just like when she was fed that disgusting soup, and her only desire was to just make it to that bed and lay down. Riccardo may have been here, yes...But for some strange reason, it was as though it was an asset instead of a concern. She didn't understand, but she just kept walking towards that bed. Opening the door, and wondering back towards the guest suite.

It was strange and ironic how the bed had become such a refuge. It was like the only place in the whole castle she actually felt rather comfortable.It was reassuring, soft, and it smelled nice and clean. It was obvious to her it was used very little, if at all. It was cleaned, from what she had seen, right after she arrived and then again before she was laid to rest on it by Riccardo himself. No matter what, she kept ending back on the bed, like an invisible tether was attached to it and her, never allowed to go so far. It was so out of place, it seemed to her.

Had Fiona any real concept of the sort of perverse things that took place on that bed, she would have stayed far away from it. She would have washed herself a million times to rid herself of it's touch, would have ran away and thrown up in the nearest sink. Many woman laid on that bed, not to mention the late maid, as Riccardo ruthlessly fucked them into orgasm. Though in the maid's case that hardly occurred. Still, ignorance was bliss, and she slunk back into the room. She just had to lay down...She wasn't going back to sleep. Just lay down...Just lay down...

With a sigh, she fell back onto the bed, face-first. She lay there for a good many minutes. Letting the bed cradle her, it was so very comfortable...It must have been made out of real goose feathers like she heard all the expensive, older beds were. It was the most comfortable thing she had ever slept on, and it tempted her so. She breathed in and out slowly, and wished she could just fall back asleep. She at this point asked herself...Why not? What was the hurry? Riccardo didn't seem to want to do anything to her currently...What was wrong with sleeping until she was fully rested? She needed a recharge, a real eight hours...

That was another thing she never seemed to get. Although her parents may have been health-nuts, they tended to focus on the wrong things to achieve it. They may have cut out pleasurable foods, but she was always demanded to get up at the crack of dawn. Fiona may have been tired at around nine 'o clock, but could never fall asleep when she should. She would go to bed, but lay awake for several hours, waking up several times during the night. Sneaking down to try and fill her fat and calorie-starved stomach with health junk like tofu and lettace, and watching TV. If her parents caught her awake, she would be in for another "early to bed, early to rise!" speech that would do it's job in boring her to sleep. If her mother caught her, that was. If it was her father, it was a bitching session that would practically make her cry in it's intensity. Up early to eat what they dubbed a "hearty breakfast" but was so light it always kept her hungry, and to study before she went to school. TV was forbidden until when she got home, and finished her homework.

That was, until she started college. Then it got worse.

She had only just finished high school. Then they enrolled her in a charm school to preserve what they dubbed "her perfect accent" and to instill in her the ways of high society. During this, she was also going to college. It was payed for and planned years in advance by the time she graduated. It was talked about in front of her, face-to-face, and behind her back. It was a constant thing, one she was sick of hearing about. It seemed as though there was nothing else to her life but preparing for it. She had no life..."Life comes later, Fiona." Her father had explained to her once.

"...You'll have the rest of your years to live it out. This is important, now. Trust me on this. You will thank me later."

To her parents, the "best years of her life" were but preparations. Meaningless.

They called her every day. Every single day. And they visited every month, and never announced it. She would come back to a sterilized and cleaned-out dorm of anything they considered "unfit for a young lady" or not pertaining to school work. She had a room mate, a nice girl by the name of Sharon. What embarrassed her the most was that they actually felt the need to talk to even her. Letting her know not to let her do this or that, that she was here to learn and not to go anywhere unimportant or unnecessary. She had a computer, one that only they monitored and had a parental filter, and they only had the password to. She wasn't allowed to change it, and as always, she let them get their way...Fiona had learned long ago that fighting against them was useless.

A phone call was made every morning to her room, which woke her up. If she didn't wake up, it would keep on ringing. Once she took it off the hook out of spite, and she never heard the end of it. Ayla actually drove down and woke her up herself, and was told that "she scared the hell out of them." and to never do it again. Like the "good girl" she was, she obeyed, with defeated tears in her eyes.

Her own mother and father had made her cry more then this whole place had...

Slowly, reluctantly, she rolled off the bed. Old habits died hard, and she couldn't allow herself to get such rest in this place. Even if there were no parents breathing down her back, that sick man was just as bad by simply existing somewhere within the place. He could be behind a door, in a closet, anywhere...

As she wobbled to her feet, she couldn't help but notice that the window now had a sheet on it, secured with duct tape of all things. She knew who did it, and that at least now the light couldn't enter in and hurt her eyes. Hewie lay not far from the bed, he already looked just as tired as she did. At that point she made a mental note to never lay down here again, she had to get her ass and gear, and now if she wished to find a way out. Once she got moving, she was confident she could keep going until she was out of there.

In the end, she still decided to take Riccardo's offer to change into something more presentable. She turned around and faced the dresser. Apprehensive about touching anything in this place, she opened it carefully. She did not see the maternal wear at the bottom, or else she may have been so disgusted and appalled, she would have ran away from the dresser never to see it again. But all she was met with was a duplicate of the outfit she was given when she arrived. It appeared to be made out of slightly different material, but the pattern was the same. She decided already that she didn't want to tie her hair back or wear the boots, her feet hurt far to much to be smashed into those things. And her hair...Well, she could quite frankly give a shit at this particular point in time.

Keeping her panties, she turned left and right warily, and quickly pulled the nightgown off of her. Her breasts bounced only slightly in response, her bare body visible for only a few moments as tried to get dressed, and fast. Unlike before where she took her time, under the belief she was alone or in the least, in the company of a maid nearby. Despite waking up stripped in a silken sheet, she was surprisingly calm when she dressed for the first time. Now she knew exactly what this particular resident wanted with her; and therefore she was far from reckless with her nude body.

The clothing in the drawer ranged from very similar to very different. Some of it was a little too revealing for her to even look at. It gave her a chill to think somebody had actually intended for her to wear this. She gave it no more thought, dashing it from her mind and shutting the drawer closed completely. And she did so with a noticeable shiver which traveled from head to toe. This was the last time she would wear that man's gifted clothing, which very touch on her skin was repulsive. Like the previous set, it was still very tight about her chest, and she didn't have a bra. There wasn't a single set anywhere, which made her sigh with irritation. Why? Did these primitive people even believe in such a garment, or did he just get a kick out of watching her tits bounce with every walk? A heavily endowed girl such as herself was not used to not having support, and it made her worry every time somebody looked upon her, what they saw, and where their eyes lingered. The whole thing was rather uncomfortable. And it didn't help her back, either.

Fully clothed, Fiona sighed heavily, and walked towards the door. She was reminded of the night previous when she rescued Hewie from his tie-out on the tree. The cable still lay there, still caked in blood most likely. She still didn't understand quite why somebody would do that to such a magnificent animal. Then she remembered how she felt mere minutes ago. Pissed off, disappointed and hateful towards the dog...And she actually found herself beginning to comprehend how somebody a bit less sound of mind could stoop to such horrendous cruelty. Fiona didn't want to stop and think how scary that was, so again, she tried not to dwell on the matter...The same was probably true for this whole place.

Hewie picked himself off the floor unwillingly, not happy about repeating yesterday's events. He was eager to leave the place, too. It reeked of death and didn't have the most plentiful food and nicest people in the world. Yet he had to admit he had grown used to the way things went around here. After one settled in, the place really wasn't so bad. Nothing was expected of him besides loyalty, and that he could do. He had all the room in the world to roam, no fast cars to dodge on the street or bitchy neighbors like his old home. What exactly was going on here? Was he staying or leaving? Was the man in brown his new master or just another member of the pack? Somehow he thought he had become the new alpha, was in charge of the girl. His scent was on her, he seemed to have claimed her as a mate.

For a small moment, the shepherd remembered how he arrived there. He was in his pen back at home, it was late at night and on the verge of an approaching morning. Out of nowhere, a black car was slowly cruising down the road. Hewie found this unusual as he had never seen this car before, and that it looked very out of place. The dog didn't know the difference from this expensive car and the middle-class sort the neighborhood owned; but he did know it wasn't the normal sort he was used to. The fact that it was also going far slower, and closer to the edges of the road then all the others was also enough to perk his curiosity. Something was up.

He got up and trotted over towards the fence that bordered the road. A growl started in his throat as the car began to cruise by. Suddenly, it stopped, the roar of the engine dying down and being put into park. A few moments passed, all the while the dog tried to see into the darkness that was the car window. When it was obvious the car wasn't going to start back up, he began to bark furiously at the intruder. It was dark and plaintive; there was something wrong here. His alphas had to pay attention this time!

But they didn't, as always. Despite having him as a guard dog, they rarely acknowledged his warnings. A typical "shut-up!" yelled out the window was all the attention they gave. As he started barking, a few minutes passed of being ignored, then he heard the window open above him. He turned around and looked up, hoping this time they would see the car parked in front.

"Shut up! Goddamn it, dog...It's five in the morning..."

Then the window slammed shut, and with his sensitive ears, could hear his female alpha walking back to her bed. He was alone in this...

At that exact moment, there was an instant blindness, and the realized it was from a spotlight being cast upon his face. It illuminated the whole yard, but especially his white form in the dark yard. He blinked in surprise, and turned towards the source as he once again started to bark. He backed away a little from the front, but was cautious to do so because of this new light-wielding intruder. The window was open now, a spotlight being held by the person inside to get a better look at it's victim.

Hewie's bark began to squelch, however, and turn into a frightened whine as the man exited the vehicle. He could smell him now...For the first real time, he could smell him. And he didn't like it. It was a bad smell. A bad man. The door opened quietly, and shut with care. As if he was trying to be as silent as possible, and noticed his head was turning back and forth between the dog, and the window that had just opened to yell the command. He was dressed in a heavy leather trench coat, and a fedora hat. His outline very visible and dark even against his equally dark car. The door remained open and the car still running behind him, and he kept the hand-held spotlight, which the dog now recognized as just a very large flashlight. The thing practically looked like it had the power of the sun itself.

As he moved, there was a slippery sound of leather being rubbed against itself, and the noise of muffled footsteps as he tried to move as silently as possible. And it was in Hewie's direction. He started barking again, even worse then before, but it was obvious that they were just going to ignore him until he shut up. Even yelling at him one more time would reveal the intruder! Yet they never came...

The bad-man approached. And it was obvious to the dog that he also had a noose in his hand, and something was going to happen to him. Hewie backed away, another whine in his throat as his attitude turned from protection, to fear. He tucked his tail between his legs and tried to move away. Yet as the human approached, he couldn't help but try and defend his territory from the intruder, and came forward again, still barking his warning. They both came up to the fence at the same time. Hewie jumped and barked, teeth flashing and furious now that this man hadn't left-

Before the dog even knew what happened, there was a rope around his neck. It happened as he jumped up on the fence to bark into the intruder's face. It was slipped around, and instantly the man pulled back and cinched it tight. He whined and screamed in sudden peril as he pulled back. Yet the man was strong, shockingly strong, and pulled back even harder. He fought to no avail as he was pulled towards the fence, being smashed against it as he rolled and thrashed, whines going nowhere.

As strong as Riccardo was, he could not lift the dog over the fence in just this manner. Realizing this, he put the flashlight between his arm and body to hold it still, then leaned over the fence as he reached with his other hand. He clasped the dog's skin and fur, painfully and without care, and hoisted him up and over. The dog whined again, and with relative ease was dropped to the ground. As his feet touched earth, he tried to make a run. He continued to bark and fight, and was focused only on this as the man unlocked the trunk, not even witnessing the event. Again he was lifted, by the rope and rear, and felt his body heaved into the back, trunk slammed down as his barks went unheeded. Not long after this, the car roared to life, and he felt himself being taken away in the vehicle to God knows where. He kept on barking, but they fell on deaf ears as always.

The ride was long, and he remembered just wanting it to be over. His mind wasn't complex enough to wonder so much where he was going or what had happened, but he did know this wasn't pleasant at all. Going in the car usually went two places. The vet, and the groomer. He hated both. No special events, no trips to the store, no hikes or long walks. Just necessities to keep him alive and half-decent looking. Much like the other expensive possessions the alphas had. Never in the trunk, though. This certainly was different...And that man, that man didn't smell good at all...And now that he took a moment to gather and analyze, he could smell a plethora, a collection, of other dogs in here as well. Everything from the intact to the altered, male and female, small and large, and a good amount of dog piss from those that became a little too excited or scared from this man's rough and sudden handling.

He remembered the ride being smooth, but the road winding and with no dramatic shifts. Then it stopped, and like that parked, and turned off. His heart caught in his canine throat as he saw the trunk fly open the morning sky opening up above him, it was a light purple and still dark. He felt and heard the driver's side door opened and slamed shut, then the man's footsteps slowly advance towards him. Then the trunk opened above him. He still couldn't make out his face, but didn't even make eye contact as he was hoisted out with a whine. There was no reason to warn, so he ceased in his plaintive barks. Tail tucked and ears drooped, he was placed on the ground without any sort of care, the rope taken firmly as he pulled him away. Hewie whined a little, and pissed himself just a little on the ground as he hunched down. The man made an irritated tone of disgust in his throat, and tugged viciously on the rope as he began to walk forward, yet he found himself being dragged as his hunches still remained on the ground. This was a new place, a new road, surrounded by forest and new sounds and smells.

For the first time, Hewie heard the man speak.

"Meddlesome cur! Stop that sniveling..!"

Riccardo spoke with near blind rage, bending down and giving him a good old fashioned, smack to the ass. He reacted accordingly, crying out and dashing forward. What he would now know as the castle gate.

"Move it! I don't have all day..."

Hewie, out of fear, complied. He scurried along behind the man as he took a relatively long walk. It was quiet, with neither of them making a sound besides the steps of their feet. Then a small split-rail fence formed alongside the old road, and the road was most assuredly old...It smelled as old as time itself, with a plethora of smells from ages long since passed, as were the doors that they came upon...As was everything. The doors were actually the gates of Belli Castle, and they were gargantuan, elaborate in their design and craftsmanship, but the dog paid no heed, he was too busy looking at the ground, nor did he care.

Then they stopped before these great doors, and where any normal man would have stopped and stared with awe, this man simply and calmy took his keys, and unlocked the massive gate. He pushed one of the doors open, stepped through, dragging the dog. It was shut hastily behind him, locking it once again with a rather loud "clang" that echoed throughout the chilly morning on this strangely quiet property. Hewie had barely even seen this place, but that was enough to solidify it was a place that was not fun. Something told him there was more to this whole thing then met the eye. He turned about as the man shut the door, and saw the castle...With it's jagged peaks, sprawling girth, lit lampposts and archaic design...And he swore even he got a chill.

The man took him over a stone bridge, pulling him all the way. Then as they reached the front doors, he took a right and walked beside the castle wall itself. They passed a pile of rubble, and through an iron gate that he had a difficult time opening. They went down some stairs, and the dog at this point had to admit, he didn't like where this was heading...Then he rounded the corner as they went to the right. What lay before them were piles of iron cages stacked atop one another. Despite them all, there were no dogs in any of them, laying empty and reeking of their previous occupants. From what he could smell, there were dogs in them less then a month ago. Ones of all breeds, sizes and sexes. Though males made up the majority. Immediately, Hewie recognized the cages, and knew where he was going. He stopped, digging his butt into the ground, but he was only dragged forward, his pleas and whines gone ignored. The only response from the man was an irritated curse in his throat.

Yet he was not pulled towards one of these cages. Instead, he was taken to the pen, a kennel made out of badly bent and cut chain link held up by wooden beams. The thing was obviously recently built, and not terribly well. It was also well-used, with the smell of other dogs and their waste heavy on the air still. There were gaps and holes readily visible to him, but apparently this didn't bother or concern the human. Without care or consideration, he pulled Hewie up to the door made out of wooden poles, which just barely cut it as a door at all- and pulled him inside. Once in, he turned around, slid off the rope, and stepped out, shutting and locking the make-shift door with a simple, small piece of metal hooking into a hole.

Jumping at the door after him, his paws hitting the door and nearly busting the simple lock, he barked furiously, teeth flashing again. He was angry, swelling with rage. He didn't want to be here, anywhere near here. Only here for a few minutes, and already the whole place reeked of blood and suspicion. Something wasn't right, he didn't like it one bit. He was scared, he was terrified, but he tried to mask it with aggression. The dog wanted his alphas back, his simple dog house and big yard...No matter how bored and miserable it may have been. Anything was better then this.

Riccardo stood outside the gate...He was silent at first, watching this. Then he smiled, slowly, it crossed his face, and then he laughed. He laughed for a long time, and it was loud, it was taunting.

"Hate me. The stronger the emotion, the stronger the Azoth...The more for me."

This didn't sit well with the dog...He didn't understand what he said, but he knew the context, he knew that smile...This was a bad man, indeed. He came forward just a little, swaggering over to him with his hands behind his back.

"...You belong to me. Your Azoth...belongs to me."

With that horrible sneer, he hit the door with both hands, hard. The dog growled, then whined, as he jumped back from shock. His response made the man laugh again, deriving such sick glee from the animal's fearful reaction to him. With a passing glance, Riccardo turned around and began to stroll back to the stairway.

"Go on, mutt. Bark. Bark into the night. Bark all night if you'd like... Nobody can hear you in this place."

Up the stairs he went, and he disappeared from sight. He whined after him, not because he wanted his company in any way...But he was hoping for some sort of release from this new prison. He waited there for an hour, looking towards the steps, to no avail. He was left here, and he still wasn't really sure why. What had he done to deserve this? Soon after, he gave up, and investigated his new "home" or whatever this place was. Calling it a kennel would be far too generous. It was filled with junk, old, rotten wood and tools he couldn't name or place. There was a trough, which still housed a few kibbles of maggot-ridden dog food. A bucket of horrid water sat in the corner towards the back. There were rusty nails sticking up, and dog waste in the other corner. He could say with definite assurance that this man didn't know how to take care of dogs very well. That, or stopped caring.

Sleeping was hard, but he curled up in one of the few spots that wasn't cluttered by junk. It was lonely, as despite the fact that there appeared to be a time when the place was crowded by dogs, it was no longer. Just him. He caught his first glimpse of Debilitas the next morning. He was terrified of the man, but the man was also terrified of him, it reminded the dog of a child, and cowered in his presence. He watched the dog as he entered the pen, but Hewie made no attempt to attack the thing, reverting instead to the corner. He came in, sporting a large bag of what another person would recognize as a generic bag of dog food, and some scraps of meat from the dungeon. He filled the whole trough with the food and scraps, then proceeded to grab a shovel and clean out the corner where he had been going. He put it into a bucket, and ran out the door, casting glances over his shoulder the whole way. Hewie swore there was not a time he was more relieved...

Days turned into weeks, and weeks piled into a whole month. All the while Hewie paced, trotted, ran about his pen, dug at the fence, chewed at the gate...He began to grow mad. The creature came by once a week to clean the place out and place more food. The food was plentiful, but tasted horrible, dry, chunky and barely had any smell or flavor. It kept him fattened up relatively well, however. He was like Hansel & Gretal in the fairy tale, fed just to be harvested later.

Then came the day Fiona arrived. He had no concept the girl would be arriving when she did, he supposed it was either destiny or fate that allowed his escape. He was digging at the corners of the kennel, when his claws caught the edge of the fence, and curled it back. It was already open, but had been pushed back so he couldn't get through. Once his paw was caught into it, however, he was able to peel it back. He slipped his head into it, and squeezed through. Before he knew it; he was free! Free at last! Able to roam the castle grounds, he naturally assumed things would get better...Then he became hungry, his only food long since partitioned off from him, and nobody knew any better as to his escaped, hungry state. It drove him into the open dungeon, seeking the smell of both fresh and rotten meat...It was where his worn collar finally buckled from the wear and tear, and fell off with a "clank" to the floor. It was where he first saw the girl...

He may have been in this Godforsaken place for a whole month, but it was in the moment that girl saved him, that his life really changed.

The dog wasn't sure why the girl suddenly didn't seem to like him, seemed ignorant of him...But dogs didn't fathom such human emotions very well, so he didn't wrap his simple mind around it. Instead, he chose to do exactly what every dog was good at; please. He was going to be loyal, he was going to protect, and he was going to please. Whatever it took. It was what he did.

Like Riccardo, she was all he had.

---

He wasn't sure what to do with himself. Despite the fact that there was so very much to do, he couldn't bring himself to do it. There was only one thing on his mind, that damned girl. He hadn't had this much excitement in a long time, the past few days and leading up to it had been the most stress he'd ever been put through. Riccardo walked to the music room, the upper part in the loft. He kept it locked from inside from the girl, but she had since unlocked it in her exploration attempt. He wasn't really bothered by the breech in privacy, though he always was the private sort. Keeping to himself, putting his hood up even in his own house.

Entering the room, he left the door open...A slight invitation for Fiona if she happened on by. It would also allow music to flow out into the castle. Wherever she was, she would hear him. Because of the open nature of the room, it was slightly chilly as he entered. Yet his outfit covered him well, so he wasn't bothered by it on this particular morning. The room was lined with speakers, but they were rarely used. He only occasionally played the other instruments in this room, and did so well. His main talent, however, was the piano.

It was something that every Belli, since the very first, was masterful in. Something that was taught, and handed down to every incarnation to the next. Besides alchemy, that was. Music. In one form or another, they played it, they studied it, they lived for it. They met with some of the most skilled composers of their time, owned a collection of some of the rarest, oldest, out-of-print books of both the subject of music, and the notes themselves. The instruments were collected over the course of their lifetimes, the harp that sat below in the lower portion of the room belonged to Aureolus himself. It lacked any modern equipment, such as guitars or drums, not because he disdained them (in fact, they had him curious) but his simple in-exposure to the modern world meant it would have been difficult to learn to play such instruments, none the less acquire them.

From what he learned of their new resident, Fiona had attended a special school just for music during high school. Not to mention it was her new major at the college she was previously attending. Fiona would most likely not want to admit it, but she was already showing her heritage, her true form. Aureleolus' memory, his Azoth, was shining through in this girl. Her intuition had shinned forward, and he would be glad to show her more, immerse her in his in-depth knowledge of music in general, and how to play it with skill and precision. His mind buzzed with possibilities as he had a seat behind the keys, then cracked his knuckles.

The music before him was "Leimstraume Notturno III", which was loosely translated from German and Latin to "Dreams of Love" and "night." It was his personal favorite, he loved how the music dipped, was slow and lovely...Romantic. When he played it, the first thing that came to mind was the girl. Not just loving her, but her in general...Her body, her face, her smile...Her voice. He oh so desperately wanted her to hear it, to understand what he meant by playing it...The afternoon before, he was playing it non-stop for several hours, his emotions pouring into the keys until she showed. It was a pity her presence surprised him so much, as he would have loved to play it for her over and over again..Until time stopped...

As he thought of this, he failed to realize that he had in fact, started playing. His hands were quick and skilled, and the way he played was frantic and frenzied. One could call it like that of a lunatic. Though the moon was far from being out and influencing his madness, if it was it surely would have contributed. His passion for the girl once again ignited (though one could say it never did fizzle, nor would it ever) he played into the day, the music filling the room and the halls of Belli Castle.

As the day wore on, music soothed even this savage of a beast.

---

Fiona stopped. She was slinking about, and "slinking" was the accurate term, as she was alternating between a walk and a run, looking about worriedly as she stooped a little. The man could be anywhere...And now that she knew he was in the castle, it seemed even worse then when she was trying to escape last night. She heard the music, it seemed to rise up out of nowhere as she passed outside the music hall, the downstairs portion.

There was one major difference, however. It was daylight. The place had them every few rooms, from what she had seen. It was brighter, but it was much cloudier. It was overcast, and she began to wonder if the lampposts about the castle were somehow automatic, or had to be turned on. For they were on now, illuminating the darker corners. They looked old as dirt, some bent and nearly ready to fall over. At least this time there wouldn't be moths fluttering about them, trying desperately to get closer to the bulb. Good thing the place had electricity...

The general feeling in the air told her it was probably going to rain. She truly hoped not, that would impede on her attempt a great deal. She didn't want to get soaking wet, not just because it was uncomfortable, but because it would slow her down and could catch a cold...It would be just bad all around. It would also force her into the safety of the castle, meaning being closer to that perverse madman. It made her glance toward the sky every few minutes, hoping the sky would clear, and that no thunder and lightening would show itself. It also hurried her along, the threat of rain wanting her to get out of the place as fast as possible, though she knew it wasn't likely. The fact that it had rained every day since she was in this country was enough to solidify her worries.

Please don't rain, please don't rain, please don't rain...

Hewie was now at her heels again, and she passed the music rooms slowly...At least now she knew where he was. She would be lying if she said she didn't want to at least take a quick peek inside to make sure he was...And the piano itself was rather intriguing to her. She knew the tune, recognizing it, but never really playing it or being able to know the composer's history well. What surprised her the most was that it was Riccardo playing it...That would be far and away the last person in the world she would expect playing such a romantic and lovely tune. What was he trying to do, appeal to her senses? If so, he had accomplished that feat, at least, very well. It wasn't enough to drive her towards him, but it did make her stop and think. Did she have something in common with that horrid man? It irked her to think so, but it was undeniable. He obviously loved to play the piano; and did it very well. Maybe not as much as the composer himself, but better then she ever had. Perhaps if he wasn't the murderous freak of an uncle that he was, she could have learned a few things from him...

'Quite a shame...' Fiona thought. And she was serious about it, too...

And it really was. She wanted to stop and enjoy the music, but all she was reminded of was who the musician was. It was said that music poured from the soul, from the innermost reaches of the heart. Now she knew this couldn't quite possibly be true; otherwise that music would be nothing but dark, black, angry hateful notes that would make her ears bleed.

Yet Fiona found herself not wanting to move. Her feet rooted to the ground. "Just a peek..." She told herself. "Just look in, he didn't notice you entering before..."

She found herself beginning to approach the door. The door that was under four stone woman in it's archways. They looked like a Greek or Roman building from ancient times, and looked into their eyes. Dressed in robes, they were perfect in form and had a classic beauty to them. Perhaps they were meant to be Goddesses, or just woman celebrating music in some form or another. Either way, their stone eyes were oddly chilling, yet fitting. It was strange how some places in this castle looked stunningly ambient and pretty...Haunting, even. While others were creepy and disturbing. She could see herself even living here had the situation been not was it was, and it wasn't scaring her half to death.

Fiona couldn't believe she was doing it, but she began to reach for the knob, and before giving it a second thought and being able to stop herself, she opened it. The door didn't creak, thank God, and she slowly crept it open. She stuck just her head into the antique, old-smelling room, which reminded her of how a museum would smell like. Looking up, she didn't even see Riccardo from here, just the bottom and front of the balcony. He was playing a different tune now; not the same as before. It sounded like the Moonlight Sonata from Beethoven, and it was again played very well. The keystrokes soft and mild, yet powerful...She found her heart bottoming out, and she realized she was jealous. Jealous! She was never able to play that well...Everything that she did, he did better...

The girl couldn't help but almost fume with anger. He didn't deserve such talent-!

"CCRRRAACCCCCKKKKKK-BMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!"

A crack of the deadliest sounding thunder possible rang throughout the land. Fiona's heart skipped a beat, and she screamed loudly as she shot back out the door and onto her ass. She scrambled to make her way to her feet, heart hammering in her chest, going into a full-fledged panic mode as she stumbled about. The thunder was sudden in it's arrival; a thunder-clap that hurt her ears and echoed menacingly throughout such a large, frightening place. Then it rumbled, what sounded like a massive growl from some invisible dragon ready to swoop down and devour her. It was like the place had closed in to eat her. The walls seemed to loom larger, and in fear she flew down the steps, tripping and falling, bruising herself. Hewie cowered from the noise, and unlike her witnessed the flash of lightening beforehand. Still, he followed Fiona with his tail tucked, but could not save the girl from herself. It was the only person he was powerless against.

It was coming, and it was big. Something wicked this way came.

The torrent of rain hit almost instantly, it was strong and it came down without warning. The raindrops felt like a hail of dimes, large and heavy. She had no idea where this hell-storm of apocalyptic proportions came from; but she had never been so close to being as terrified as she was last night until now. Not so much that she would get struck by lightening, but the sheer magnitude of the ambiance was enough to weigh heavily on her soul. Her clothes became soaked in no time as she ran away from shelter, and she was suddenly overwhelmed. She made way for some way to get out of the rain; but the rain came down with such force that it was coming in sideways, no matter what eave she stood under, it hit her, it was hitting her hard. Hewie shook as he was soaked, trying to dry himself, and he followed her with reckless abandon. He didn't seem to care about getting wet, he wasn't aware that the girl was so miserable. To him with was almost fun.

She turned and decided to make way for the castle in able to try and warm up. Even if it postponed her escape attempt; so be it. Running back, they splashed through what had already been some massive puddles. Luckily she was barefoot, no squishy shoes or boots keeping her down. The sky had turned pitch-black, and she could barely see. Up the stairs, past the music room and into the corridor, she was ready to stand and wait when she heard it. Footsteps. It was coming from the hall, and it was obvious Riccardo had heard her, or maybe the storm had him worried about her. Either way, she didn't want to see him. She was soak and wet, and for some stupid reason, all she could think of was the fact that her tits were now plainly visible through her shirt. Shivering, dripping wet, the clothes hanging off of her as she wrapped her arms around herself. She was too vulnerable, and she didn't want him to see her like this. She'd rather die.

Without second thought, she ran back into the rain. Like throwing herself back to the wolves. She told herself it was only rain, only water, and that in the end it was better then staying behind to deal with the real, true wolf in the place. Her feet splashed through the puddles as Hewie again followed, and this time she actually saw the lightening bolt in the sky, faraway, as it flashed and then the thunderclap shook them again. It was as though the whole Earth rattled. Her efforts became frantic as she ran into the large courtyard, past where the balcony failed and still lay in rubble on the ground. She was already getting tired, and this time took the opportunity to flee inside, running into the game room.

Or at least; that's what she thought.

The door had been locked. As most of the doors to the outside had been in order to prevent Debilitas from entering. They could be opened from inside just as she did, but not the out. Riccardo certainly didn't expect the girl to be running from her life, and of all things a thunderstorm. He figured he needed to come looking for the girl one way or another, and if the doors were locked, he could fix that. There was no rush on his part; why should there be? She would have to come about him at some point of time...

What he didn't know, or predict, was just how much in his favor the decision would play.

Fiona was confused for but a moment, finding it strange that a door would be unlocked the last time she checked, but locked dead solid the next day. She ran back, the rain hitting her still through the busted balcony. It was at this point that Fiona's exhaustion caught up with her, and her world began to spin. Her hunger, her stamina, her mental health, all fell down. Like the front of a retreating army, it had failed. She clutched her stomach as she felt her muscles clench with dehydration and overuse. In vain, she opened her mouth and tried to catch the water on her tongue, stumbling back into the open where the water continued to drench and pound her like she was standing under a waterfall. Her heart strained, her vision clouded and spun from fear and exertion. Suddenly she took towards the outside castle wall, and began to beat at it, screaming at the top of her lungs. It was all in vain, no real result could come of it. She pushed up, trying to grab the stone.

"No...NOOOO! No...Gotta get out...Can't...Can't stay here...Noooo..."

The girl had never attempted to climb the wall. She wasn't stupid, it was absolutely vertical, slick, visibly impossible to climb. Yet she wasn't in her right frame of mind. Not anymore. Tired, hungry, thirsty, frightened. When she was just meandering about the castle, she could stand it. With the possibility of Riccardo once again chasing her, and the violent thunderstorm that made escape virtually impossible, it was all too much. She had gone far beyond her breaking point, operating on borrowed energy and time.

Her mind warped by the storm, clothes soaking wet and clinging to her form, it weighed her down even more, she reached and jumped higher to try and scale the stone. She did manage to make it a few feet up on the jagged rock. Yet it was false hope, and her bare feet strained on the cold stone, slipping.

"-Noooooo!"

With another scream she fell back, twisting on the hard Earth as her foot slipped and cut itself on the stone. It was only about four feet. Yet it was enough to daze and knock the wind from her. She moaned and groaned in pain as the cold ground riveted her bones and seemed to chill her to her core. Her head felt like a watermelon dropped on cold cement, and her vision doubled as she looked up at the sky, seeing lightening flash and hearing the thunder roar once more. Had it been a longer fall, she just may have blacked out then and there. Luckily enough, her bad luck had given her the smallest break. She rolled over on her stomach, taking quick, hurried breaths. That was it. Fiona was convinced; she wasn't getting back up. Nothing was broken, but she just couldn't do it. She had given up. Maybe not forever, but for now...There was just no way.

Tears began to flow freely from her eyes as she lay there. The rain never did let up, and continued to pound and pour her body. It began to become nearly relaxing; but knew that every fabric on her body was soaked beyond comprehension. It wasn't that big a deal...Except she was still in this place, with that murderous freak of nature...The dog paced nearby, circling Fiona like an animal Lording over it's kill. He whined, sensing no real urgency with the girl, but knowing something had happened to her. His snout came close to her face, sniffing and huffing in her ear. He licked her face, which was wet with tears and the heavy rain. Even he wasn't sure what to do. He could only stand in the rain for so long. What was she seeking to accomplish just laying here like this?

He wasn't sure why. But he shook again, wetting the girl even more with the water that slicked from him. Ears down, face cast towards the ground, he stood like a silent sentinel in the rain. Waiting. The dog had smelled him for awhile now, but knew what was going to happen next. And so he did not growl, did not react, as he watched through the rain. Expecting him anytime now.

It was still a long wait. A half-hour passed by, rain pelting them both without remorse. Then slowly, slow enough to only barely notice, it began to let up. Fiona herself had ceased to care. She wasn't comfortable, nor content, yet there came a slight peace in giving up. She lay on the ground, on her stomach, eyes closed as she silently cried and wished for it all to end. Feeling horrible, cold, wet, tired...No doubt she would catch some sort of cold or sickness from this whole thing. How would she escape, now?

What Fiona didn't notice was that the rain had stopped. Even the slight drizzle fizzled out. The storm in general had only lasted an hour, but it was enough to do enough damage to the girl. The castle was un-fazed. If anything, the water would help the plants in the garden, the only long term effect. Though puddles still lay about on the grounds, something told her they would evaporate in no time, once the sun would come out. It sure wasn't now, though. It was still cloudy, dreary, unforgiving...

The silver lining was on it's way, however. It just wasn't the one she wanted to see.

The rain had just literally stopped, when the footsteps became apparent again. She never did hear them, or if she did, didn't take heed. Her miserable form lay on the stone, sprawled, wet, and careless. The noise of feet slowly stepping through puddles was obvious, but in her state of depression, ignored them. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Hewie looked away from the man; fearing his fierce gaze. Anytime the man looked at him, he knew he was being judged. Whether he was worthy or not...And this time, it was especially judgemental. Like he was responsible for the girl's state. From that point on, Hewie made himself a promise. Prove himself. Show this strange, dominant and possessive man, he was worth something. This was his pack now. He wouldn't let a thing happen to any one of them, no matter how horrible of people they may be.

Because unlike man, dogs do not judge.

Riccardo had heard the girl downstairs, not when she entered for he was playing far too loud, but when she screamed. The thunder beforehand had made him jump nearly just as badly, but he kept quiet. Still, it had him worried. What did she have to scream about? It was only a thunderstorm...Surely, she wasn't that reactive, was she?

The weather was a bit extreme and odd lately, but there was nothing new about it raining so often. He walked out into the open, looking left and right. For a moment he almost called the girl, but realized this would make her run if anything.

Walking into the courtyard, he found himself before the collapsed balcony. He caught the eye of a familiar white, ruffled dog that was now dripping wet. And the minute he did, the dog got up, and hurried towards him. Not a growl in his throat, but a bark. It was similar to a whine, high and pitched. His tail wasn't stiff, but actually wagged a little. He came closer, and for a moment fear rose into his heart at the thought of the dog suddenly turning on him again. His hand hovered close to the pistol at his side, but never actually closed about the handle. His ears were down, and he looked at the man in a manner of combined fear and submission. Almost as though he had done something and looked "guilty". For a moment Riccardo wondered why, and was curious as to this odd behavior. It was unbecoming of the animal to begin with, and the fact that he was alone...Where the dog was, Fiona never seemed to be far away.

Then he spotted her on the ground next to the castle wall. His heart dipped and sunk into his stomach, which also bottomed out. He found himself running towards her, sandals getting wet but unhampered as he ran through puddles. Already from what he could see, she was alive, her torso rising and falling as she lay soaked on the ground, on her stomach breathing into the ground. He didn't know if she was injured or near death, not until he got closer. Finding himself overcome with sudden, unexplained concern he was at her side in seconds.

The girl never did turn her head in acknowledgement as he came closer, never did react, not until he was right on top of her. He knelt down by her, just like before on the cliff, but this time he touched her in subtlety. When she fainted he never reached to catch her, he wasn't concerned for her happiness at the time. As long as she served his purpose. Yet now that he calmed down and his rage was drowned out by reason, he sought her comfort. The lion could become a lamb when the conditions were right.

And it wasn't even March...

Fiona lay there; her heart beginning to thud in her chest as she realized who it was, that was advancing towards her. Riccardo. His gait was unmistakable, but she couldn't help but notice it was faster then before. He had ran towards her; then stopped and was right next to her side, she could feel his presence. She prayed that he wouldn't touch her, and her heart twisted deeply into her stomach as the seconds ticked by.

Her heart leaped into her chest as she felt his hand upon her, on her shoulder. It was surprisingly gentle, open-palmed upon it, then grasped it firmly and gave her a small shake. It stunned her how this violent man was behaving so differently now...And just how warm his hand was, once again, like a torch had singed her flesh. Her skin drew away from his leathery, fiery touch, but she didn't move. She was too afraid to.

"...Dear?" His voice sounded. She wasn't sure why, but she almost welcomed something so...familiar when she was in such a uncomfortable position.

"Dear? Are you hurt? Are you alright?"

His tone reminded her of the hallway where she collapsed earlier yesterday. It was asking very much the same thing, and this time she still didn't have an answer. She didn't move, didn't respond, hoping despite all logic that he would just go away...

The next thing she knew, she was being rolled over. She kept her eyes closed as he did it, setting her on her back. The shock made her gasp, and her breathing increased involuntarily, and she laid there, chest heaving beautifully as he stared at her. In the forefront of her mind, she knew he was looking at her buxom chest, and her now protruding nipples...He had to be. Her head lay to the side, not wanting to even have her face in line with his...

"Fiona? You're soaked..."

His tone was worried, and obvious. She wanted to yell out "no shit..." but her normal manners always stopped her. And this was no exception.

There was a long pause from him, and she could only imagine the things running through that perverted mind. Had she known what it was exactly, she would have gotten up right then and there and ran away. But she didn't, and the more he looked the girl up and down, the more he realized just how miserable she was in that heavy, wet clothing. He now noticed that she was shivering harshly, teeth chattering. Did she even realize how close she was to catching hypothermia? Or at least, a cold? Now that was something that would throw her cycle off, he hoped she would not be adversely affected.

The more he looked at her, the more a daring thought raced into his mind. He realized it was for the best. She could never warm up in these drenched clothes, she needed out. And it had to happen as soon as possible. He knew she wasn't going to cooperate, and that she would squirm and make things difficult. But then, that seemed to be what she did best, wasn't it? He would have to use force to keep her down, and if she fought...He would have to fight just as hard, right back. She wasn't getting away this time.

"Excuse me, love. But this clothing simply must go..."

Fiona's mind went numb, her muscles went limp and cold, like wet noodles. What? What did he just say? What did he even mean by that? As he said this she felt him reach down, and gently, carefully, like he was defusing a bomb ready to go off, she felt him reach aroud behind her, and feel for the strings that tied her corset together. She wished she could say she fought valiantly, was stuggling, fighting, kicking...Yet it would be a lie. Her whole body was weak and tired, like she was moving at the bottom of the ocean, her movements slow and tired. She fruitlessly moved her legs up to push or kick at him, but they did nothing but cause him to shift more to her side, hands still busy behind her as he struggled to untie the lace. Her arms reached up to try and force him away, and in the very least these tended to keep him occupied enough to slow him down.

This only lasted a few moments, as Riccardo began making noises of irritation, putting up with her futile efforts and tired defensive measures. She cried mournfully as she was then rolled over onto her side, then he stooped down further to finally get at the lace. He looked at the girl as he did so, her eyes still closed shut as tight as they could, and noticed she was now crying. Yet it was quiet, trying to mask it from him in a very obvious way. He did notice that she had stopped fighting him already, her body had given up. Though he was sure her mind was still very against him. He was going to be quick with this; have her be naked as little as possible, for the least time possible. He still wanted her to have her dignity, at least.

Although he had to admit, he wanted to see the girl's bare breasts again. His heart fluttered a little in his chest as he worked the lace, anticipation brewing as he came closer and closer to removing the garment. Finally, it loosened, and he wasted no time as he gently pried it from her wet body. He pulled it up and over her head, and what was left of the sun behind the clouds shone upon her wet, slick skin. It seemed to almost shimmer as it did so. There was that moment when she just lay there, chest heaving and breasts rising and falling with them- and the fact that it was cold meant they were peaked and pointed. He couldn't help but take a moment to stare, stooped there and fixated. Yet it was only for a moment, then she gasped, and rolled to her side, huddled in a fetal position, shaking and beginning to sob.

It was quite the sight, but he tried to push on. He reached down towards her curved buttocks, and gently pulled down her skirt and panties as one. Despite her legs being clamped shut, she seemed to lack the energy or even willpower to prevent their removal. Soon she lay completely naked before him, and then he worked to ensure this would not remain true for long. He leaned back, and reached down to undue the rope about his waist. Fiona gasped and cried harder at the sound, apparently thinking he was going to take advantage of her. She wasn't too far from the truth, just not at this particular time.

Pulling the hood up and over his head, he bundled it carefully, then shook it out. He was once again going about in his black, long-sleeve shirt, and he was sure he wouldn't get his outfit back until later that day. Looking down at her, he knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"-Here." He spoke, taking her arm in his hand, gently trying to roll her over.

"No!" She cried, again looking away from him, refusing his offer of clothing.

Wear that thing? Fiona was sure she'd rather go naked...

"Dear, you don't have a choice. You'll weaken if you don't have any dry clothing on you in this sort of weather. It's just until you get in front of the fire."

"No! I don't want that thing anywhere near me-"

As she refused, his anger pushed through the roof, and he rolled her over the whole way. Then he took her hand, and pulled her up into a sit. She sniffled, wrapping her arms around her chest and looking away.

"Put your arms up..."

She looked to ignore him, her whole body still shaking, teeth chattering away.

"Fiona...Need I remind you of what happened the last time you disobeyed me?"

The girl winced as a small chill ran down her spine, and she had to admit she didn't want to be reminded...Her rear still sort of stung from the encounter. Especially now since she was naked, on the ground, her bum touching the bare Earth. She also had to admit she was freezing said ass off. Teeth clacking away as the jolts of chill ran through her muscles, twitching and shivering, desperately trying to keep herself warm. The first stages of hypothermia...Even she knew this. She told herself not to take his offer, the last thing she wanted was to wear his disgusting, most likely smelly clothing. He may not have smelled dirty, filthy...Looked it. But she could feel it in the way he looked at her. The man was like a walking piece of trash to her. The most vile thing on the planet. Yet how she craved the warmth he offered, and now she found herself having an explanation to take the offer she didn't want to. She had refused, but now she was being forced. In the end, she had no choice but to consent...right?

Slowly, she let go of the last obscurity she had, taking her arms off her glorious breasts and putting them up. Without thinking, without hesitation, Riccardo acted. He took his hood, and began to pull it over her shoulders. Hands roughly sliding through the sleeves, all the way down to her thighs. It reached just above the knees, it's size much larger then her voluptuous female form. It was like some large, medieval nightgown from hell. She had no intention of spending the night in it, however.

It slipped over her head, and she moved to want to take the hood itself off. He pulled it back.

"Keep it on, it'll keep you warm..."

She sniffled, closing her eyes as a drop of water ran off her nose. At the time, she couldn't concentrate on anything besides the fact she was wearing Riccardo's steward uniform. It made her sick. It reeked of him and his environment. What she had smelled before when he was close to her, was multiplied a thousandth-fold. It didn't stink...But it was almost overpowering. That, and detergent. He had apparently washed it since then, and she was grateful. It was loose, and she winced with a sort of disgust as it plastered against her wet skin, clinging to her. It was warm just like him, his heat following his clothing and flowing into her. Like a blanket of fire all over. Her bare legs were still chilled, yet her body was satisfied and grateful for the coverage, and she huddled her arms together to assist. She had to admit...It felt much better.

Fiona didn't want to dwell on the fact that this man wore the thing in his day-to-day life, probably having it for as long as it was made for him. God only knew how old it was. Something about it unsettled her...Everything about this whole situation was so damn wrong she had a hard time comprehending it.

Barely able to feel it, she now watched as he stooped, and began to lift her once again. She went into the air, where she moaned a little from absolute relief. Shifting in his arms, she shamelessly rolled towards him and huddled against his body. Riccardo actually tensed, not ready to feel the girl intentionally try and get close to him so soon. He also wasn't particularly used to having somebody...anybody...so close to him. His left arm under her knees, other around her back. He stood up and held her tight, her arms around his neck and face in his clothing. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to forget who he was, where she was...The only reassurance the sound of Hewie following them as he carted her back to the castle. Her new home. How she hated to think so...

How she hated to admit what she knew all along.

---

Sometimes when she looked at something in this castle...anything from the portraits, to the extraordinary, the mundane...She got that feeling. It was something she didn't exactly understand, but she never put much thought into it. For her, there were far more important things to do...Like escape this place. Running for her life half the time. And all along, she had this sensation of deja-vu, of reminiscence, familarity. Sometimes she sworn she had seen something before, others, like something wasn't supposed to be there. Was moved, altered. Changed from what it was supposed to be...And yet, she was never here before, how would she know if it was changed, or if it was any different before...She was never here before...Right?

It felt like home. It felt like home the minute she gazed the castle from up close, and afar. And she never did understand why...

Now she sat before the fire, on the floor of the guest suite. She was still dressed from head to toe in that monster's hooded uniform. He let her take the hood off, so at least she felt a little more comfortable. Though she had to admit it wasn't as horrible as she thought it was going to be. It wasn't exactly soft, but more-so then it looked. It was very warm, and wondered if he wore the thing in the blazing hot summer. Unless it didn't get that warm in Europe as it did back at home, but she didn't care to be reminded of her home...It hurt to think she may never get back...

Riccardo sat next to her. It was something she was not comfortable with, but knew that voicing her thoughts meant nothing to the man. He would probably laugh at her, because apparently it's hilarious to him. Everything seemed to be. He was a mad bastard. Perhaps not in the literal sense, as bastards sort of have to be born...

Fiona sighed, it was long and tired...She hated this all so much. Broken, tired, hungry...She'd kill for some of that pie now.

He looked over in her direction at the noise, taking a moment to admire her beauty in the firelight. She sat slightly askew, legs under her on the floor as her toes stretched towards him a little, though he was sure it was purely from happenstance, not because she wanted them anywhere near him. He also sat mere feet from her, on the left, head down as he thought deeply. This wasn't expected, this meeting before the fire, but he considered it rather pleasant regardless. Before, the girl wanted to be far, far away from him. And he was sure she still did. At least, this time, she wasn't up and running away. A dead, awkward silence pervaded the room. Though he assumed what was running through her mind was far and away as quiet.

Her arms were folding in front of her, the last of the drops of water evaporating on her face. They had been sitting here close to an hour, the clock ticking in the background just as clear as ever. He was certain she had a million things to yell in his face, and was grateful that she instead took the silent treatment. Not a word escaped her lips since he scooped her up and brought her in from the cold. Despite the fact that remaining in her drained, freezing state could have sent her into near-fatal hypothermia from which she may never have recovered. He recognized that she had gone a bit mad from the experience, how else would she have ended up where she did? Panic, few realize, was just a slight form of madness...Brought on by paranoid and stress. It weakened the body and mind, brought down it's defenses and slowed judgement. The poor thing was running around like a chicken with her head cut off.

It was getting late, yet still, it was still a long ways from dinner, but it arrive before she knew it. Another flutter of excitement rose in his stomach, every thought of making love to the girl brought excitement to his heart, causing it to hammer away inside his chest. He tried to make eye contact with her, but she still kept her eyes glued suspiciously to the fire. Mesmerized in it's licking flame. The room was pitch dark save for it, it must have been quite the attraction for her. He sat there, still, with one knee bent and the other stretched straight before him, towards the flame along with her, almost touching her toes with his. His right hand draped over his right knee, fingers hanging over, the other on the floor helping keep him up. He didn't make a sound, afraid of breaking the uneasy peace that had developed between them.

Yet all good things must come to an end, and soon he decided he needed to do something. Slowly, he broke the silence by standing up. He grunted a little in obvious, tired exertion as he rose to his feet, then smoothed out his shirt as he stood there. She glanced in his direction momentarily, but continued to be hypnotized by the fire. He supposed she was just a little embarrassed, what with being stripped and all. Just barely fighting back the erection that came of it, he admitted it certainly made his afternoon. Though that would be nothing compared to tonight.

"I will leave...I have much to do. But I will be close, don't be afraid to ask for anything. I'll run out and grab those wet clothes and have them dried, and I expect you to wear them. Dinner is at six, if you don't come down, I will find you. I will not have you miss dinner."

His tone was harsh this time, and she could tell that he was far from joking. And she knew, right away, as much as she would want to...She wasn't going to skip it. Fiona would have to eat dinner with this man.

She listened to him leave, shutting the door, and she took a small breath...But it wasn't as large a breath as she expected. For some strange reason, it wasn't all that uncomfortable with him around this time. A chill crept up her spine at the thought, and she continued to stare at the fire...Not sure why she didn't jump up as though she had ants in her clothing, and tear the thing off of her...His smell, she realized, was rather calming to her...Like how a mother cat calms her kittens, with a hormone, with her scent...He didn't smell like her father, but then she realized, she was never that close to him, anyway...

Fiona sat there for another five minutes, not sure why...Then finally, after what had to be several hours, he returned. Riccardo opened the door as silently as he could, and walked up to the bed, where he laid the clothing neatly folded atop it. He left without saying a word, not wanting to disturb the peace of the moment. Shortly after he left, and she was sure he was gone, she stood up, her whole body sore and tired, even after all that rest. At least she was warm now, a little too warm, and she shed the clothing of the man, not in the disgusted manner she thought she would, but with some reluctance. It had become like a second skin to her. She once again stood naked, but hurried quickly back to the bed where clothes were once again laid out for her.

Now that it had just been in the dryer, it was very warm, and smelled of fabric softener. It was incredibely inviting. She now noticed a few new things about her new onsomble. This one had shorter sleeves and fit her even closer, was tighter. She had to guess this was more of a size four, when she wore an five. Yet it was comfortable, tight about her waist but not constricting or painful. It was even more white, brighter like it was just washed. This one wasn't silk like the gown, but instead what had to be a blend of fabrics she had never felt before. It wasn't bunchy or baggy like the others. The skirt was just about identical to the previous one, but even more transparent, the fabric also white, but lacy. The designs were embroidered with gold leaf, and now she recognized it as the same design that was on the door...The tree of life.

She stopped in her thoughts suddenly-and realized...How did she know that? Surely, she never even knew of this term before...She never learned of it, how did she know this...? It didn't make any sense, it just popped up in her brain, like common knowledge. It was the tree of life. It was the symbol of the unification of all things and total enlightenment-

An image popped up in her head. Star charts, already hundreds of years old, formulations, dirty, antique tables, a smell similar to that of a museum perforated the air as an oil lamp burned steadily nearby-

"Stop!"

Her voice rang in the air as her hands shot to her temples, holding them tight as she squeezed her eyelids closed...

It wasn't that the image itself was so terrible...But it shouldn't have been there...And where did it come from...?

Going barefoot again, she found herself going to walk away...Then she stopped, and she spun around, and sat on the bed. Her rear felt so much better cradled in the goose-down bed. She looked over at Hewie, who had taken a seat next to the fire after Riccardo left. He looked up back at her, tail wagging slightly at having been acknowledged. Tears began to fall from her eyes, and she asked the dog something she knew he couldn't answer.

"Hewie...What in God's name are we going to do, now...?"

--

The dog didn't answer. Instead, he simply walked up to her, sensing her sadness. Then he followed her outside, and could sense a weakness in her step. A tired, depleted state of misery and despair. Hopelessness. Licking her hands, comforting her. He was rather surprised that she was willing to leave the castle after such a traumatic experience out there. At first it appeared to him that she was going to try and escape again, a look of unease on her face, another tear...Then she slowed, and took a seat on the steps outside the guest room.

She sat there for such a long time. It was warmer out then before, and the clouds had long since dissipated. As she looked up, she saw what had to be the most beautiful sight in her whole life...It wasn't a painting, a sculpture, anything at all formed by the hands of man...

...It was the sky.

The sun wasn't setting yet...But she was positive she wanted to see it when it did. The clouds were still in the sky, but farther away, towards the heavily forested horizon. Huge, towering thunderheads loomed there, shrouded in dark purples and light blues, with the occasional streak of lightening shooting from one cloud to the next. It boomed still, but so far away it was obviously harmless. She didn't jump or startle, instead continued to look on, tears gently falling from her face as she had since stopped wiping them away, and eventually they stopped completely. The region between the clouds and the trees was a light blue, and the top was a blackish gray, with purple in the mid-region. And in the center of it all, the clouds were parted, and a ray of light shone down from it all, casting down somewhere in the forest beyond the castle. The whole scene moved gently farther and farther away, spreading it's rain where it traveled. Nobody who suffered it's wrath would have any idea just how stunning it really was, as the castle was situated so far up, they could see what just about nobody else could...

A strange peace overcame Fiona as she looked at the foreign sky...Foreign for her, but native for them. Now she was a native...Now, this was her sky, too.

Fiona stayed until the sun began to set.

--

Dinner was not easy.

First, he wasn't sure what to cook the pretty young thing. He wasn't sure what she liked, only guess by preparing some of his personal favorites. Hoping that they shared even more in common, like what they liked to eat for dinner. The once again concern that the girl was American went through his head; although really in the grand scheme of things it didn't matter, he had to admit he felt the girl had been raised in the worst possible place. In the very least that traitor, Ugo, could have had her raised within the country...Instead he chose the one with the least possible class he could imagine. Ah well, he supposed her womb would be just as good.

And that really was the thing. As much as he loved...and hated...this girl, what he really needed was her body. Her soul, her blood...If he wasn't interested in having her please him for the rest of his life, he might have conceived a way to cut the thing from her and find a way around it, but no...He wanted all of her. Mind, body, and soul...He enjoyed control, enjoyed domination, and holding a beautiful, bright flower from the sun, only to give it light when he saw fit, and flourish under his own shadow. Like a pet, but far more rewarding...

A dog may be loyal, a cat comforting, a fish entertaining to watch...But only a woman could satisfy his most primal of urges. Not just to fuck...To be provided with a child, eternal life and youth...And company, something to love, and perhaps even be loved back...

Such thoughts faded away as he busied himself with the preparations, as most thoughts do when one tries not to dwell on things he or she might not like to admit. Appearances were everything, and he was but moments from going to collect the Lady so that he may feed her the meal he spent nearly a whole hour preparing. It was surprisingly easy this time around, the moment he began busying himself with the pots and pans, trying to work the stove, memories started flooding back. He began to slowly piece together how to prepare a meal. And before he knew it, he was nearly finished, the the wonderful aroma of food in the air. He found himself hungry all over again.

In the end, after a few long moments, he came up with what to make. Soup was defiantly out of the menu, considering what he found earlier. She would reject that before he could sit her down. He thought about pasta, but that was too messy for his first meal in a long while. Fish, he felt was too difficult to get right for a novice for himself. Beef would take too long to cook. Something simple, he felt, and classy, perhaps even romantic...Sauteed chicken and mixed vegetables on the side, and wine. He knew it was pathetic, but he reasoned it away as being practical. In the back of his mind, however, he kept thinking the girl would be far from impressed.

He sautayed and fried the chicken in a saucepan, adding garlic and olive oil as he needed. The vegetables, corn, beans, broccoli, next to it as it simmered along. The first time he burned a little of each, and had to start over. He threw it away in disgust, but not into the trash, into the cleaned-out bowl that he supposed was now the dog's. Riccardo supposed now he would have to get used to the mutt, and caring for one. It was not something he was looking forward to, but he knew it was well worth the sacrifice.

The dog wasn't around, though. He supposed he would be under normal circumstances, he knew they could smell from miles away, and food was their motivation. Yet the girl would most likely have him holed up in that room with her. He supposed he should be grateful, less irritation on his part. Especially since he had just placed the food on the table, one on his side, the other on the far end of the other side of the table. Riccardo may have been an ego-centric man, but he knew he couldn't jump feet-first into sidling up to her so quick. For now he would keep his distance, and eat as far away from her as possible, while still having her in his sight. Though he didn't care for it, didn't like it one bit.

Setting the table, he placed forks, knives, and of course put more then were really needed. Forks and spoons for this and that, which from what he always thought was more for show if anything. In the back of his head, he hoped they would appear as a more classy bunch then what they had appeared at first. They may not have been normal, but they had their manners, they had their idea of right and wrong. Far be it from her to think things that he knew very well to be false. But he couldn't change much of what the girl thought, only what she felt. He would still have to work, hard.

At each plate, besides the elegant napkins and expensive, centuries-old silverware, were two tall wine glasses each. He knew fully damn well that he intended to get hammered. He deserved it for all the bullshit he took, and had to deal with the day before. Not to mention, he tended to be a charming drunk, one's whose talents increased as he drank. It calmed him, made him easier to deal with and talk to. It was how, after many glasses of wine with a woman, he found his way into many of their pants. Some of his best nights started with a bottle of the finest wine, older then even himself.

It was how he swayed Cara...

She was a memory that Riccardo really didn't like to drum up, because once he did...Once he did, he couldn't stop. He didn't want to admit that it was his fault, yet at the same time, couldn't stop blaming himself for what happened to the girl. Deep down he was a sadistic, horrible man...Yet this was one of the few things in his life that had ever brought him guilt. Perhaps it was this that still kept him human. From becoming an utter monster like Lorenzo. It was something that infatuated, saddened, and gripped at him all at the same time.

It happened not but a month before Ugo left. Perhaps it was this very sight that was the last draw for his brother, his reason for leaving, but he could never be sure. He sure couldn't ask him, that was sure. It all started when he left for his monthly trip to the grocers, while Lorenzo and Ugo were at home with their noses stuck in books...As per always. He met her at one of the grocery stores he frequented, and found it curious that he had never seen her there before. Admiring her from afar, he watched as she reached high up onto the taller shelf to acquire a jar of crunchy peanut butter. It had made him hungry...Not for the peanut butter, but for her.

This occurred in early summer, and it was just warm enough for her to be dressed without a coat. She was slim, but not overly so. If he had to guess her weight, it would probably be around 135, most of it apparently in her thighs. Though he guessed that later, as she was dressed in brown cut-off capri pants, and a small shirt. He was more for the voluptuous type, but this girl had something about her that he rather liked. Not just in body, but the way she moved...So unsure of herself, looking around almost constantly, like she was afraid the bogyman would be right over her shoulder. Scared, paranoid...She needed someone to protect her. Oh, how attractive he found it...How mad it was driving him to see it.

Despite her paranoia, she still seemed to want to look nice. She wore these black high-heels, which matched her black shirt, a shirt that covered her breasts effectively and did not show her cleavage. Now that he recalled it, the girl reminded him of Fiona in her modesty, afraid to show off the gift that was her body. Perhaps she didn't want the attention, the looks, the stares, the chance of being even talked to let alone rushed in a dark alley, raped. She wore a very small coat, made of denim. Only lipstick graced her face, and it was a dark red. Her hair was dark, a jet black, dipping just beyond her shoulders. It was also very straight and flat, yet it matched her perfectly.

Riccardo had since slunk back into the aisle behind him, watching intently. She appeared to be having a few problems getting the item from the top shelf. Slowly, carefully, like a fox waiting in the bush, he advanced from his hiding spot and crept forward, leaving his cart behind to avoid the noise. He reached her easily enough without detection, and the only clue he had from his existence was the jar she was reaching for, being taken, and handed to her.

He swore the girl jumped some ten feet in the air, she gasped and stepped back, both in shock and in fear. Riccardo grinned from ear to ear, hiding the majority of his deformed face under his hat.

"Please excuse me, miss..."

His voice was sulty, courageous. Giving the devil himself a run for his money when it came to charm.

"...It appeared as though you needed some help."

A smile crossed his face, and the girl blushed a deep red as she took a step back from the dark stranger. She smiled a little back and averting her gaze, nervously putting the peanut butter into the cart. What followed after that was a courteous "thank you", and almost ended with her walking away, very quickly. Yet something was oddly mesmerizing about this man. And despite his imposing nature, he had something very alluring about him, something she couldn't quite place. But he seemed almost...safe. As she tried to step back, he stepped forward, and when his mouth opened, he talked to her in such a calm, sensual nature that she couldn't help but feel less frightened, welcomed.

Riccardo did as he always had to lure woman into his grips; mention in the small conversation that he had a castle. Her eyes lit up a little, they always did. He asked her name, and with eyes pointed towards his feet, she responded. Cara. He rather liked that name. He told her how beautiful he thought she was, and she blushed again, giggling nervously again to cover the awkward moment. It lasted somewhere around a half hour, then he walked with her to the front of the store. It was all going so smoothly, he had yet to ever be turned down. Even real hunters cease to have such high success rates.

The closing deal came when he payed for her groceries, with cash at that. This obviously impressed the girl- it did with most- and she was his. He walked her to her car, loaded her groceries into the trunk, and asked if she would follow him home. She declined at first, and was not surprised. Cara was still a bit apprehensive, wary to this stranger who very apparently wanted to sleep with her. He played this card carefully, saying that he just wanted to have tea and show her the estate. The girl had mentioned that she was an absolute castle enthusiast, and had been to nearly every one on the isle.

"Nearly...!" He commented with a warm attitude.

"My dear, you can complete the collection tonight...!"

This caved her, his work paid off. She agreed, and he got in his car, she got in hers. He led her down the winding, dark road, all the while she must have been thinking to turn back...Who in their right mind would follow a total stranger in the dark, all the way back into the woods? Towards a castle, of all things? For all she knew, she could have been walking right into a one-way trip into a ditch alongside the road. Yet Riccardo had the seeming ability to spread his madness by way of his charm, and would make people think, act, in ways they really should not.

They stopped at the gate, which he normally didn't do, but didn't want to lead her through the long, winding path that led to the front gate from the parking lot. He remembered hoping it wasn't muddy, and felt relief washing over him when it wasn't as bad as he thought. They parked and he got out of the car, opening her door and escorting her through the gates. She had a look of nervous, almost petrified fear on her face. He calmed her with a smile, not wanting to put the moves on her yet in fear of rupturing the trust he had instilled, that would come later. When she was within the walls, without escape...When the gates were locked.

And he did so, with a surprisingly load "clack" when the gates closed, then locked. Yet the girl never noticed.

It was easy as butter after that. He had invited her for tea, but the first thing they did when they got there was have wine. Lorenzo and Ugo were in the mansion, oblivious to their activities. He had already eaten, apparently, some food left over for both of them. After serving her some rather high-class pasta, which needed only a little heating-up, he conversed with her on the dinner table, telling her just what they would see on his little personal tour. Then she asked what some woman always did, why he had yet to remove his hat. It was after all, rather rude to have one's hat on in the presence of a Lady, not to mention the dinner table.

He then asked to be excused, that she was right, and that he had just forgotten. His castle uniform was over in the laundry room. He dressed and returned in his blue uniform, which garnered a strange look from the girl, but he tried to cover it the best he could. Explaining to her it was an actual, factual medieval castle steward's garb, and that he felt it best to wear it in such an event. For authenticity. She never did ask why his hood was up, and was almost waiting for the question. He knew she must have thought it. They all do...

The wine loosened them all up a bit, and at this point, he invited her to the music room to listen to some of his work. Yet it never happened, it didn't have to. As he approached her with a glass of wine, he put his arm about her, and she simply leaned forward into his chest, giggling a little. It was almost as though she was waiting for such a thing to happen. To be invited, to be whisked away and romanced. He leaned forward and kissed her, and after that, he remembered little but a blur. Riccardo supposed it was because he felt it all too easy. Too overcome with utter lust. Was this the one?

After that, he remembered waking up, alone...As always. The guest suite bed was drenched with bodily fluids, most notably a heavy sweat. His clothes in disarray on the floor. The girl was not in sight. She must have seen his face, he reasoned. His keys gone, and found hanging in the key-hole at the gate. He found them after dressing and rushing hurriedly to them to investigate. In the very least, she got away without Lorenzo trying any of his own bullshit. What he wasn't expecting, however, was the note. He found it on the table outside the alchemy lab.

Dear Riccardo,

Thank you for the lovely evening. You're castle is quite lovely; too bad I couldn't stick around for the tour! I needed to leave for work.

Thank you for making me a woman.

Cara

Riccardo nearly had a heart attack. Not just because she left a note, written on some leftover paper from the kitchen and an old feather pen (which took some searching, time, and effort) but because she had been a virgin. Surely, a woman that beautiful would have no problem attracting a mate. It was a shame he was still too out of it to remember what exactly happened, but he did know he was more then satisfied with the evening. As the day went on, he remembered more and more of it, and found this woman now absolutely enthralling. He was hooked. And in the end, he wasn't exactly sure why, couldn't explain it, but it was like his yang to his yin. Someone to complete him. The fact that she seemed to care about his feelings, leaving this note and all, made her seem even more attractive to him. So unlike all the girls and woman before...

And as Riccardo cleaned up the bed, taking the sheets from the bed and ready to take them downstairs to the laundry room, he noticed something out of the ordinary. The lack of a used condom. He must not have used one. At first he didn't dwell or think about it, he must have been either too drunk, or too caught up in the passion to remember. Yet it was this very thing that caused for the second surprise of that month, later on towards the end of June.

There was a knock at the gate, and had he not been outside having his morning tea out on the bench, he would have never heard it. He was always leary of knocking at the gate, which did happen occasionally, though rarely. Running to the gates out of curiosity, he yelled to the other side, requesting in a rather rude tone who it was. His reply came in a sobbing, upset voice. One he still recognized well. Cara.

The doors were swung open as fast as he could, and he stood, hood down, face desperate, to face the girl. Her eyes didn't widen in shock, didn't look surprised or horrified. They were instead, teary, tired, red, and her hands were clasped together almost as if in prayer.

"...I'm pregnant."

His reaction was delayed, and one could swear it was as though he didn't hear it at all. He had become a stone statue.

"Excuse me...?"

"Riccardo...I'm pregnant. I know it's yours."

There was a long silence as all the feelings fell around inside his head. As they all came crashing down, falling atop one another as he weighed the absolute gravity of them all. He looked at her in total shock and despair. He was not supposed to carry on the Belli legacy, that was Ugo's job. His brother was to produce an heir, not him, he was the "defective" one, without the proper body nor Azoth...This wasn't to be. If either of those two found out, especially Lorenzo...

"Come in...We'll figure this out."

He said such a thing, because he considered it more of a problem to be solved then of a child. Of course he had always desired to continue his family, nearly all people do, especially men. Yet he had no intention of doing it this way; the inferior way, he was convinced. He wanted to clone, to live on in his future incarnation. A normal child could never be this. She did not have his Azoth, nor his blood. As much as she may have desired this woman, she was not fit to bore his child.

At the time, nobody was. Cloning was the only acceptable way for Aureolus Belli to reproduce himself.

Yet he could not bring himself to kill his own creation; so he would not order the pregnancy terminated. Even if she wanted to, he would hold her captive if he had to, forcing her to bare the child alive. Even if he had to do it under the two's noses. What to do with the child, and how to handle this all was what was up for debate. He had to decide if he was better off keeping the child here, or sending them far off into the world, far enough away from Lorenzo and Ugo so that they would be safe, or trying to stand up against them and guard them here at home. Both had their disadvantages. Such an impure being would be lost and excluded in the castle, he would not fit in, could never be a true heir. Yet sending them off into the world meant his precious blood and Azoth would be unprotected, which he could simply not have.

Despite these rampant thoughts, a part of him couldn't help but feel...Giddy. Excited. He started to shake all over, a small jitter as he waved her inside and hurriedly closed the door. A child...At long last. Something he thought he would never have. And this girl had come back to him, something another girl had never done, she didn't care about his looks, didn't flinch or back away. She instead seemed drawn to him and this place. He would never be alone again inside this place. He was going to be a father...

Alas, it was not to be...

At least, that's what he always told himself. That what happened was for the best, that the girl didn't belong carrying his seed, baring his offspring. That the cruel hand fate dealt him was destiny. A sign, as if from the Gods themselves, a punishment for his recklessness. A lesson learned...

Not long after he escorted her into the castle, he sat her down in the guest suite. She was crying, but he didn't know how to comfort her, how to care. With tears in her eyes, she rather loudly proclaimed the fact to him again, and they began to discuss the situation. To this day he couldn't remember exactly what was said, perhaps part of him didn't want to. At the time it was all so confusing, and looking back at it all made it seem even blurrier, even harder to comprehend or understand. He still had a stilted persona, was not happy with this new development to be concerned about, and considered it more a problem then anything. He would have killed to have a quick, simple answer to any of this.

Then Riccardo did something he both regretted and questioned ever since then. He left her. Just a moment to clear his head, he held her hand as he walked away, as it slipped from her grasp. She pleaded in a desperate voice, then reassured her that it would be okay. He left her sitting on the bed, tears in her eyes. Then he shut the door, and ran down the steps and into the outside. He took a moment to breath and think, and knew then he had to go and confront Lorenzo on this matter. Meeting him head-on was his chance. Otherwise...He would find her, first, and the scene would not be pretty.

He prepared her a small lunch, a sandwich on wheat bread that included meat and cheese. As he took it upstairs, he noticed the door hanging open. He rushed to the room, knowing he was already too late. The girl was gone...No trace of her anywhere.

Placing the food on the bed, where it never was eaten, he took off in a mad haste to stop him before it was too late...He's seen victims of the old man's greed before.

Many times before this, after he slept with a woman, they would disappear the morning after much like her. At first he thought nothing of it, mearly assuming that they had, of course, left after seeing his face in the light of day. And he was right for the most part. One day, however, as he was in the mansion, he found them drained of their blood and Azoth, dehydrated, mummified...A corpse, sitting there, with pale eyes in their sockets as they gazed at him. He found three altogether, all of them woman he had slept with. All of them nothing but crisp, hollow shells of their previous selves.

Two of these had since been removed, when he saw them, a small chill rose up his spine, and he full-bodied shuttered...As cold a man as he was, seeing his former lovers sucked dry by his own creator was not a sight he particularly wanted to see...Let alone have to deal with. Had he been a more mortal man, he would have been scarred for life...Yet he was already scarred for all eternity, and not just in flesh. He could never hope to be so horrified by something, to become emotional over some sweet cunt he had just for a night. As much as he might like to. It was perhaps his biggest scar, one on his black heart.

Then the third, which was seated on the large sofa in one of the mansion's hallways, he tried to remove, but could not. She had appeared to be dressed into a maid's outfit, which he knew he didn't pick her up in. He could only guess Lorenzo did it to engage in some sick sexual fantasy, either before or after he killed her. Riccardo really didn't want to fathom or think about which in particular. Or, actually, why she was put into a sitting position on the couch. None of it made any true sense, yet he had grown quite used to all the particular, unexplained things done in this place "just because". And quite frankly, he had become sick of it.

When he tried to remove it, by hoisting it up and over his shoulders, it was caught on something and fell back. It puzzled him at first, and looked at the back of it to investigate. He found a rather horrific sight, wires poking at the back of it's head and running down it's back, and into the couch. Then he pulled back the couch just a little, and found it ran into the wall. It took him but a short while to understand what happened here. Another hidden camera. He didn't know how the old man really did it, and wouldn't mind finding out how, seeing as it looked almost impossible to pull off. It must have worked through the eyes, routing into the camera and into the central video system. Why he did it, however, he could never understand. He didn't dwell on it...That man was even crazier then he was, and that was saying something. The closest he could fathom was that it was a way to hide a camera plain out in the open, without anyone suspecting what it really was. So strange, so hideous, nobody would even want to investigate. Rather clever, now that he thought of it.

As for why the old man even wanted to videotape everything...He had his suspicions. Lorenzo never really explained why, but when he was younger he always assumed he was just paranoid. As most older people are. Even in the middle of nowhere behind tall walls, he was always afraid somebody would try to get into his fortress of a castle to steal their secrets or take their wealth, or even kill him for his unspeakable ills. Which of course, he entirely deserved. This was confirmed for for Riccardo when he told him of a story when Lorenzo himself was just a child, being raised by his own creator. A man somehow got into the castle, and by the time they knew he was there, he was too late. Lorenzo watched helplessly as his creator and the man struggled, a knife held to his throat. If not for one of the castle's many guard dogs, which stuck and knocked down the attacker, there may not be a Belli legacy still to this day. Lorenzo would never have survived at his young age...Would have starved to death, never would have created himself and his brother...

...Fucking dog.

Yet he knew this was a factor, Riccardo had long suspected the real reason for the cameras. Lorenzo's perverted little voyeurism fetish. Nothing gave him more pleasure then watching his creations stroll about the castle on their daily business, or better yet, undress. He caught the old man once watching videos in the projector room, with his hands down his pants no less. The film was of Daniella cleaning, but later found many reels of himself there as well. Needless to say, it twisted his gut and wrenched it into knots, and after seeing the rather disgusting image, fled the scene with the door left hanging open. He never did find out if Lorenzo caught him watching, and didn't say anything about it, just didn't look him in the eye and avoided contact just in case he did. In other words, their typical relationship. Nothing changed. Riccardo was pretty sure nothing would ever change...

In the end however...It left him cold. At first he was angry, blinded with rage. More-so then he had ever been in his entire life. He was positive, had he seen the old man in that time frame, that he would have been killed with his own bare hands. Images of him snapping his own father's life filled his head as he stalked about, rage and sorrow rising and peaking in his emotions and body system...And just like that, it stopped. The more he dwelled on it, the more he reasoned it away. They were just girls, toys to fuck with and leave...Why should he get so upset over them? Surely, they didn't deserve to die...Yet it happened. Perhaps they shouldn't have been so weak, so frail, should have fought back harder...Lorenzo was just an old man, for God's sake. If they had fought back strong enough, surely they would have made it out. They weren't successful enough to live on, anyway...Natural selection, weeding out the weak. The more he thought of it, the more he rationalized away their death. And when he finally saw Lorenzo later that week, looking younger by a few years, more fit, and a smile on his face...He was given only a cold stare, before they sat down to dinner. An awkward table, as it always was.

So he kept on, kept bringing woman home. Not a care in his world. If they're too weak, not strong of will nor body, then so be it. He was not one to worry for others. When he awoke not to find the girl, he still wasn't worried, not concerned with her well-being. Yet now she carried his child, and now she had become something more to him...He was on the verge of caring. Of loving. So close...So very close...

And as always, the old man ruined it all. He was just as responsible for ruining his life as much as he was for creating it.

He searched the castle for quite possibly hours, in a frenzied and thorough pace. Finally, he reached the examination room. Yet something told him, deep inside, that he was far and away too late. He was always too late...

As he threw open the door, he saw her laying there, nearly dead. She was naked, sprawled neatly on the table with her legs shut and arms at her sides. The girl looked pristine, virtually untouched. Her pale skin shinned under the bright light, her smaller breasts peaked in the air as they moved on her chest...Breathing in her comatose state. She was alive yet, but might as well had been gone. Just kept on the brink so that her blood was more fertile as it was harvested. Yet she did not appear as a body on some autopsy table, she was far too pristine. Her white, pale skin was far from natural, and it was obvious she had been drained of her blood already.

He could also tell this by the rather obvious sign of the blood-letting. Long, crimson streaks of blood streamed from each closed eye. They flowed down her face, and strangely enough, had enough momentum to make their way down to her belly-button. The blood streaks themselves looked so perfect, not rubbed or smeared, like two tubular ribbons sitting on her body. Untouched by human hands. Even her black hair beneath her head lay flat and arranged neatly, like a work of art.

From her wrists came two tubes, one on each one, which both met into a single, circular tube that gradually dripped into a large glass. The glass was nearly full, but was still going, still collecting, despite nearly overflowing with the very fluid of life. Several candles were lit on the table itself, and about the room. Candles that had just been lit. Once he would have captured her, immobilized and laid her down, sucking the blood out would have been easy. And once enough was collected, there would be none for her heart to pump, and she would die from blood loss. When he wanted to, the old man could work so damn fast, could do so much...

Yet she may have been drained of her life fluids, some of the essence of life had remained. Azoth. He knew the old man would extract that next, and he would, soon...He was gone right now, he could take her lifeless body, take it away before he defiled it again...

But Riccardo didn't do anything. His stomach had bottomed out, his head light, and vision blurred. He couldn't believe the amount, the gravity, of the events that had just transpired. He had just found out that he was going to be a father, then the mother was dead within a mere few hours of hearing the news. He was a father alright; but of a fetus within a doomed mother. It would have been nothing but a batch of cells at this point, but it was still there, within her body...A part of him wanted to go back and carve it out of her, try and save it, but deep down he knew it would be a fruitless attempt. A waste of time that would arouse the suspicions of Lorenzo. And in the end, it was his still primordial fear of the man that kept him from interfering with his attempt to bleed the girl dry. Had she been alive, he would have killed for her, he realized. If the process was still here, still working, he would have freed her if he had to. But now? He would have risked his life for a corpse, and he just barely cared enough to even try to save her life to begin with. No...

With shaky, slow steps, he left the room, door hanging open as he left it. He was a defeated man, a tired man, not so much in body as in mind. Tired of all the fucking bullshit, tired of that old man, tired of having everything taken from him...

If Riccardo was a cold man before, now he was frigid. For the rest of that month, he developed a cold, determined stare...Sometimes looking into blank space for hours on end as he picked at the dry skin on his face and knuckles. Thoughts filled his mind, thoughts of suicide and murder, unrealistic concepts of fatherhood or grandeur. He had such thoughts before, fantasies...Yet now he thought of them more as actual possibilities. Not dreams. But hopes. He was going to live on, goddamn it. So help him, he was going to prove his creator wrong. He just had to find a way.

His response to the old man was the same with the other woman, except hinged on avoidance. Riccardo wanted to deny the girl even existed, threw her memory out like bad garbage. He told himself he didn't give a fuck about her, didn't want to admit the feeling she had begin to stir up in him. He was so good at it, he convinced even himself. All memories of her were through black-colored lenses. He cursed himself for trying to do more then fuck the girl, that he should have slammed those castle gates on her the minute she showed up. He was rather good at it all, and in the end, practically forgot that Cara even existed...

That was, until he found out where she went afterwords. She was a lost cause when he left her in the deep sleep on the table. Not worth saving in that state. But as he was once traveling through the mansion through the extraction chamber...He saw it. She had been inserted into the extraction tank to harvest her Azoth, bodily tissues and fluids. She hung there, her flawless, milky body upside-down, her raven hair had since fallen out. There was no bulge on her stomach to indicate her one-month pregnancy, but to him it was as obvious as always. His eyes always glanced there, lingered there. It was still there. Would always be there. The extraction chamber was used to harvest Azoth, and other components that can only be brought from a living thing. She was especially good for this purpose because she now carried a part of the Belli legacy within her, a part of his Azoth flowing through her veins when she was inserted. The fetus probably still alive, but un-growing, un-functioning.

Even today, they used the girl for their formulas. To produce a Godstone, one needed the materials the extractor produced. At first it unnerved him, but as time went on, the extraordinary became the routine. He would enter the room, walk past the floating pregnant woman, use the extractor, then leave. Over and over. Even when Fiona was here, he only cared that the girl was away from the safety of the castle, not that she was staring so blatantly at something any normal person would deem unusual. Though it did aggravate him that she was prying into their personal affairs, sticking her nose where it didn't belong.

Despite her wildest guesses, however, Fiona could never guess who that person really was. Not just another victim, but the other woman.

For the first time in years, Riccardo was reminded of Cara...

His hand squeezed the wine glass, and it shattered into pieces in his hand. A small cut formed as he raised it to his lips to lick the wound, then went to fetch the broom to clean up the shards.

"Never again..." He said to himself as he did so.

"So long as I live and breathe...Never, ever again..."

---

Fiona's steps were slow, plodding, and shaky. It was 6:30, and knew that Riccardo had said dinner would be ready at six, and that he would come to get her. He hadn't shown up yet, and was very glad for this particular fact. Yet it also meant he was overdue, and was expecting him any moment. She decided to meet the threat head-on, take the bull by the horns so to speak, and was on her way to the dining room. Heart thudding in her chest, body shaking and whole form racked by tension and fear. Still, it was far better then being dragged to the table by the very man that threatened her.

For a moment, she stood outside the door to the dining room, down by the stairs. She hesitated simply because she knew who would lay beyond it. A whole different world, a possible future she didn't want to dwell on...What was going to happen? To her, to the rest of her life...?

Carefully, the knob turned...She could hear the clicking of the bolt as it released. If possible, she wanted to enter unannounced. She wasn't sure why, he was going to see her sooner or later. She didn't even know why she was going along with this, showing up, not running or hiding...She supposed it was because she was tired of being chased, of being the prey...Running away from her problems. That's not what adults do, right? She wasn't a child anymore, even if her parents used to think so.

The door opened, and was quite surprised to see dinner sitting on the table. For some reason, she wasn't entirely expecting that. Instead she wondered if the whole thing was going to be a trap. An invitation for dinner only to be hurt, tortured, killed...or worse, in some way. Her mind raced with dark possibilities, she really didn't care to dwell on them. But actual dinner? Somehow, the concept alluded her. Especially one that...Looked, and smelled so good as this one did.

What surprised her was how the chairs remained at the same length, that he had not attempted to bring them closer. Only one candlestick remained on the table, and it was lit, having looked to have been a new candle and not burned down like the ones before. Several plates sat at both ends, along with the various, unnecessary utensils and two glasses each. She didn't want to think what filled them, but guess them to be alcoholic in nature. She wasn't sure why, whether it was because her father commonly drunk wine on special occasions, or because that would be a rather "fancy" thing to serve at such a high-class dinner affair like this one. Her best guess was a combination of both. The food itself actually smelled wonderful, steaming like it had just been placed on the table. The chicken smelled and looked as it should, and the vegetables looking fresh and far from overcooked. Pieces of buttered bread, two of them, were on small plates next to each meal, along with a small salad. It all did well to make her stomach groan, and surprised even herself that it made her so hungry.

"Does it suite you?"

She gasped and jumped, spinning around to face the man. He stood there at the door she just came through, leaning in the doorway with his arms on the frame, body slung a little forward. It was rather unlike him, and found the pose strange. He did, however, look comfortable and low-key. In fact, he didn't look the least bit scary anymore. Was it because she had been around him so long? Or, was it so unlike him that it made him seem not like the man himself? Again, she guessed it a combination of both.

He witnessed her reaction, and had to admit he had tried to sneak up on her. There was something about witnessing fear on a young lady's face...Though he now tried to save the moment.

"Apologies my dear, I can't help but try to sneak behind you...It's in my nature."

"I'm sure it is..." She repeated in a drull tone. "It explains so much."

He smiled at her sarcastic tone. Her face was blank and unamused, and drained of it's color. For a moment he had a flashback of Cara, in which his smile faltered just a little. Her drained skin actually did remind him heavily of the other girl, so much that it made as chill creep up his spine. It made him shudder. Soon, like her, she would carry his seed. Except, this time...The result would be far different. He would make damn sure of it.

"Good one. You got me good, girl..." He droned, and smiled as he stood up straight looking at her with sleazy intent. This time, she could feel his gaze on her body...

Right now, Fiona wished she had prodded the sleeping Hewie she left upstairs. The dog had grown comfortable enough, it seemed, to fall asleep by the fire. He had stretched himself up and laid down by the fireplace, and seemed to have virtually fell into a deep slumber. Her natural inclination was to let the poor animal catch the sleep he so desperately needed. She didn't even try, or even think, to wake him so that he may escort her downstairs and help keep her safe. In the end the fact that the animal would have done nothing, anyway, was enough to stop her thought process in the matter. Why bother?

Riccardo took a few loose steps forward, his whole body surprisingly less taut then before. Less tense. She had seen her father like this before, after he'd had a few drinks...And by few, she meant five or six glasses of wine. She wondered how much he must have had, and how much he was going to force down her throat.

...She just prayed to sweet, merciful God that would be the only thing forced down her throat that night.

"Well, does it? Does it suite you?"

It took Fiona a moment to realize she was actually being posed a question, after a second's thought, she answered.

"I suppose..."

"Because, if you desire something else-"

"No, no...Not at all. I...This, this is fine."

She stuttered a response, looking towards the floor and rubbing her arms. Despite her hate, deep down inside, the girl never did like to be a bother. Besides, what he made actually looked...good. She couldn't quite think of anything she would rather have, actually. Fiona couldn't even believe she was really, truthfully hungry. After all this man put her through. Yet she was only human, and humans have needs. This place taught her that little lesson, anyway.

And some people would do anything for what they needed...

"Please," Riccardo indicated, as he side-stepped her and pulled out the seat nearest to him. Eye on her the whole time.

"Have a seat, my dear. Dinner is served."

The girl shuddered at the invitation. Last time she heard those same words, things didn't exactly work in her favor. Something told her this wasn't going to be a pleasant experience, either. In the back of her mind, she still hoped that somehow, something could happen to save her. The police could burst through the door, he would choke and die on his own dinner, Hewie could come running up and take a chunk out of his crotch. She would take anything at this point. Any and all miracles she could conceive popped up in her mind.

Her body jittery and pale, drained of all color, she took a seat at the chair pulled out for her. She jerked as he pushed it in, the chair screeching as she was now comfortably up to the table. The food and it's wafting, steamy aroma now by her head. She had to resist the overwhelming urge to dig right in, forgetting completely of the circumstances and giving in to her bodily desires. She then heard, then witnessed, as Riccardo walked from behind her to across from the long table to take his own seat.

Candles were lit before her, on a single candlestick in the center of the table. A fire crackled in the fireplace in the room, to which it looked to have been cleaned and readied just for the night. She shuddered despite the abundance of hot, primordial fire, the man across from her chilling enough to freeze her to the bone. Yet she tried not to focus on him, her gaze hazy and pointed down towards the food...Heart palpating in her chest, breath hitched. Not so much that Riccardo was staring at her, eyes boring into her very soul, but that after dinner was finished...She couldn't help but almost know for sure what he was going to try.

He was eerily silent, and realized that he had yet to try to even eat. She wasn't looking at him, but she was listening, and she felt his dark blue eyes on her. The man was waiting...Waiting for her to begin.

With a shaking hand, she picked up one of the ornate forks that lay next to the plate. She brought it down, and cut a piece of chicken, and very slowly rose it to her lips. The girl never attempted to hide her weak, shambling nervousness. Like a deer walking with a limp before a wolf. His eyes were just like a wolf's, too. And he was going to take just as much advantage. She opened her mouth and timidly sniffed, then nibbled at the food. It wasn't the best meal she had ever had, but it was far and away not the worse. As a matter of fact, it was much better then the food her mother used to make. When she did cook, that was, and it seemed as though it happened once in a blue moon.

Shortly thereafter, she heard then as the man on the opposite end began his meal. He was far more hurried, and it was obvious to her that he was either very hungry, or desperately wanted the meal finished. Again, probably a little of both. She tried to block him out and sook to finish the meal before her at her own pace, trying to think of the meal itself rather then her rather sticky situation. God, what the hell was she going to do?

On instinct, she reached to have a glass of refreshment. Under normal circumstances, this would be either water, or some sort of juice. Her parents never let her have iced tea or soda on account that it was unhealthy. Yet this was wine, and alcohol was always far and away out of the question. Despite being a large wine connoisseur with quite a collection in the basement cellar. He always seemed to think she was going to break into it, looking at her suspiciously if she exited the cellar, smelling her breath. Yet she never had a real desire to have any, she never was a fan of what it did to her father, she had to admit she was always curious to what all the excitement was about. Just the fact that her parents didn't want her anywhere near the stuff was enough of an allure to make her want to at least try...

Before she could remember what liquid was inside the wine glass, she had already lifted it to her lips and taken a sip. She stopped suddenly and withdrew the glass, holding it back and eschewing her face in surprise and distaste. Of course, nobody likes alcohol at first, so she was sure at this moment that she would never taste it again. She put it down and a cold feeling crept into her brain, not from the wine, but from the sheer realization she had done what she had been trying so hard to avoid. By drinking the wine, even a little, she was playing right into his hands. A drunken woman is so much looser, weaker, then a sober one.

The taste seemed to deter her more then anything, however. So she sat it down and resumed her meal. She hoped so desperately, against better logic, that the man had not doped her food. Truly, it would be so easy to do so. She found herself analyzing every little bite, trying to taste anything different or out of the ordinary. As she ate more, her mouth once again became parched and unwittingly reached for the wine again. This time she caught herself from taking an unprepared drink, but did so with precaution. She drew it towards her mouth, a look of disgust as she sipped it, just to wash down the food, she thought. This time she found it a bit more bearable, and in fact, took another sip before she put it down.

Riccardo watched, and as he watched, he finished his meal. Cleaning his plate of every morsel, he pushed it forward out of instinct to show it was to be taken away for the next course. Then he realized he had to fill in for the maid from here on. Suddenly, it felt rather depressing. Only desert remained, more of that pie the girl had turned down earlier that day. He wasn't sure why he was so eager to feed it to her, he supposed because he wanted to show her something good could come of this place. Reaching forward, he plucked the wine glass and finished that as well, only to promptly pour himself another glass. He was going to drink as much as he wanted, too. Riccardo was not one that believed in self-control.

Fiona was only half-way through her own meal, but the speed at which she ate was steadily increasing. Her body was giving in quickly to it's desires. Food, drink, and the allure of alcohol. The sips from the glass of wine increased, and she eventually finished the first glass before even her own meal was done. Being watched became less and less of a deterrent, and the awkward silence that had hung in the air ceased to matter to the girl as she busied herself with finishing it, forgetting just what might happen when she was done.

That, and this was her first glass of wine. And little did she know that she couldn't hold her booze particularly well. The room may not have been spinning, her vision blurred or speech slurred, but already the alcohol was having it's effect in the sense that she had ceased to care. As she finished her meal, she too pushed it forward to indicate she was finished. Just like at home with her mother, the wine forgetting for her just where she was. She reached forward and clasped the next glass of wine to finish the whole thing. It would be rude not to, she reasoned.

With a tear rolling down her cheek, she titled the glass into her mouth, and drunk it dry. She had given in to the forbidden desire she always had to partake of her father's off-limits wine. It was far from as delicious as people made it out to be, but she found herself quickly acquiring a taste for it. And now, she had a goal in mind. Drink as much as possible, as quickly as possible. Become so inebriated, she could not remember the rest of the night. She knew now just as much as ever what was going to happen, she could see the look in the man's eyes as he stared at her from across the table, hands clasped before his face as he watched her patiently to finish.

She was faltering...It was happening right before his eyes. The limping deer had grown weaker, and like any predator, they took advantage when they could. Even the strongest, most fit of hunters was made from the very flesh of the weak and the wounded. Like a flash, the minute she sat the wine glass down, he was at her side. Her eyes widened a little at the sudden (albeit quiet) approach of the man when her guard was down. In his hand there was the wine bottle.

"More wine?"

Her conscious screamed "no!" but it was too late, she had nodded, and it was promptly poured for her, to the top. Another tear fell from her face, sliding down and staining her blouse as she lifted it to her lips. He leaned down and forward, and took hold of the bottom as she still had the glass at her mouth, and titled it for her. She gagged and sputtered a bit at the surprise, and protested a little as she mumbled.

"...Now, that's a good girl...That's it, all of it..."

As she drank the last ounce, she coughed, and pushed the glass away.

"...Stop!"

Like a switch being turned off, he responded. His hand gently clasped the wine glass and took it from her, setting it down. Carefully, he apologized.

"Forgive me, my dear...I'm afraid I've forgotten myself..."

The thing that surprised her about his tone was just how apologetic he really sounded. Saddened, low in tone and under his breath. Like a child that was just caught in the act. His head even hung a little.

"...Here, have another glass."

She never did protest as she watched him set down the glass, and fill it to the top with the bottle he had in his hand.

"You obviously enjoyed it."

Tears slid silently from her face as she sat there, not denying the allegation. But it wasn't so much that she enjoyed it as much as it was that she wanted it to disappear, him along with it, preferably.

"Desert will be served, I'll be right back."

At that, he left. Rather hurriedly, too. His steps quick and fluid, he wanted to get back as soon as possible, apparently. She found it strange how her mental wish sort of granted itself, and looked towards the wine bottle as it sat there. It was nearly empty, but what came to her thoughts first was using the wine bottle as a possible weapon. Smashing it over his head, running like mad...

Again, then what? Where would she go, what would she do? Still, this question loomed over her plans of escape. Still, it prevented any chance she had of ever living a normal life again.

The wine bottle remained, sitting there like an idol of her futility, intact on the table.

He returned, it seemed, all too soon. Carrying with him the same pie she refused earlier, she found it a bit redundant. She looked away as he cut and lay a piece on a clean plate before her that was just brought from the kitchen. He moved over rapidly to his seat, eager to watch her eat from what he considered a safe distance. Riccardo himself felt like a birdwatcher, taking in her beauty from afar like a man watches an elegant bird through binoculars. She sat there for a while, sniffling a little, gaze downcast. And again, he waited for her to take the first bite.

Her fork rose again, slightly faster then before, and started to eat. She wasn't happy about eating something that was, apparently, created by the maid. Yet she tried to put it out of her head as she ate. She had to admit that it was very good, however. Very, very good. Before she caught herself, she moaned a little from the absolute texture and amazing taste of the dish. It had been forever since he had any kind of desert-like dish. Anything from cake, pie, ice cream...She swore she almost forgot such food existed. Riccardo ceased to exist in her mind anymore. All she saw was the food before her, the crumbling, cholately crust, the fluffy-ness of the rest...The small, gelated chips on the top. It melted in her mouth, and it was finished before she knew it.

She grabbed at the wine, and downed it all almost instantly. Some splashed down and onto her neck, and she reached for the the napkin to wipe it all off. All the while, forgetting the man was across from her, staring. She had instantly wished she had another piece, it was so good...Too good, like it was intended to melt her heart just as well as it fell apart in her mouth. She wanted more, and she wanted more, now.

Riccardo recognized the look as she finished, and sought his opportunity to further please the girl.

"Would you like some more?"

"...Yes."

Her tone was sad, and it was defeated, and he leaned forward, and cut her another piece-

Leaned forward?

It wasn't until now that Fiona realized that, while in her drunken state of feasting, that Riccardo had moved his seat up the table, steadily. He now sat nearly right next to her, and as he went to reach forward, he moved the chair with his other hand, and now was eerily close. Her heart fell in her chest, feeling to now be in her stomach, and she took a deep breath...And reached forward herself, to grab the wine glass, downing her fourth one. Perhaps a little too fast, but she had ceased to care anymore. Riccardo plopped the next slice on her plate with sloppy grace, and she dug in. Fiona had every intention of looking like an absolute pig as she ate, not wiping her face and shoveling it down her throat, with the sole intention of being a turn-off.

Yet Riccardo never had such a large smile on his face as he did now. He watched her engorge, end was enjoying every moment of it. It pleased him greatly, and could feel the warmth of arousal flood his system and grow with each moment. He moved his plate every time he moved, so with him was his wine glass, and he filled it more and more as he watched. Soon, close to five glasses were in his system, and he had grown tired of pouring, wishing the glasses themselves were much larger. The bottle was nearly empty, and instead of pouring himself the last glass, he tilted it into the girl's, watching it fill with ruby abundance.

She visibly looked intoxicated to him, her eyelids fluttering and a struggle to stay upright in her chair. He knew, now was the time. Vulnerability...

The deer had stumbled.

It wasn't so much that she was drunk that he decided to take advantage of the girl. It was the fact that she ceased to react to her noticing he was now so near. No getting up and running away, no wide-eyed fear, no protest. He leaned up and over the table, taking her napkin in his hand. With care, he reached up and dabbed the crumb that was on her lip. She reacted a little, moving in her chair. He laughed a little in his throat, and pulled it away.

"Please..." Squeaked her voice, tiny in the large room.

"Please, leave me be..."

He didn't react to this plea, and instead put the napkin down, and sidled even closer in his seat. His hand came close to hers, and finally enveloped her right hand. Her fork was still in her hand, but it dropped when she felt his hand hold hers. It clanged nosily on the table. The heat radiating from his skin was overwhelming, but the grip was surprisingly gentle. She didn't jump up and try to wiggle from his grasp, her slowed state made her feel as though she was far, far away...And she could have sworn that she could see herself from across the room. Like a puppet she couldn't actually control. A movie playing in slow motion...A movie she already knew the ending to, and was trying in vain to warn the character in of impending doom. She screamed inwardly at herself to move, to run away...

But the heat...His heat. It seeped into her cold flesh, and the alcohol blurred the lines of what should feel good and what should feel bad. As alcohol does, it impaired her judgement. What used to feel bad, the touch of the clone's skin, suddenly felt rather exotic. Felt rather...Pleasant. She took a deep breath as she tried to regain her composure, but she had drunken far too much to recover at this point. Gone too deep into the rabbit hole to turn back.

"Drink the last of the wine, my dear. It's time to turn in for the night."

Normally this would have sent a chill up her spine. Normally, she would have ran for cover...But now? She drank the wine, slinging it down like someone was going to take it from her.

He leaned forward, and placed his face in the crook of her neck. Despite her inebriation, she stiffened. It was like a splash of cold water in her face. This had to be the closest he had ever been to her. His face on the very most vulnerable part of her anatomy, breathing hot, steamy air onto her neck. She cried out in a combination of fear and sheer surprise. Her heart rate quickened, speeding up and sounding like she had just ran a multi-mile marathon. Instantly, her chest heaved air as it rose and fell at an incredible rate. She tried to back up in her chair, but found it too heavy to just push back in her quivering, weakened state.

Trapped, trapped again...

This time, however, she had trapped herself...Between a heavy chair, a man dead-set on sex, with her between it in her own drunken state, brought on so that she may escape the situation only to escalate it.

Then came the pulsing, throbbing sensation in her crotch. It was alien to her, and for a moment she wondered if alchohol did this as well. Quickly, and horribly, she realized it was arousal. She didn't know why, couldn't explain it, didn't know how or why...But all she did know, was that the very thought of being forced into sex made her pussy practically ach to be touched. A small, surprised moan escaped her lips, and she closed her legs as tight as they would go. Riccardo recognized the tone, and his persona changed from charming, to business. This was all so surprising to him, he expected her to be so much work. She had put up so much resistance to the whole thing...

Yet in the end...The girl was still a Belli. And all Bellis love a good fuck.

There was a figurative wall in the girl's brain. It the wall that was between the opening of her legs and the man before her, and that wall was starting to crumble. It was still up, and it was still strong, but it's foundation was in question. A little more work, and he could make it fall. Her drunken stupor would help, but by itself it would accomplish nothing besides a weakened mental state and body. He had to convince the girl, yet. And that, he decided, could be done in the bedroom.

"Come...It's time, my dear."

This elicited a cry from the girl, a cry of despair and sadness. Somehow, she knew it was inevitable.

In one swift movement that she could barely register, he reached down, and grabbed her. One arm around the back of her knees, the other around her back. He lifted her effectively, not straining, and she was too weak and drunken to struggle. She moaned in defeat as she was taken into the air. He pulled her towards his chest, and smiled devilishly as he began to walk towards the door, opening it was difficult, but with his heart thudding in his chest, breath hitching and body trembling from excitement...A mere door wasn't going to present a problem at this point.

Fiona's vision became hazy as she was entrapped in his warm arms. He felt so good...Too good to resist. To her, he was the devil. Promising something that would make her feel good for a few wonderful moments, but would make her pay for an eternity. She may not have been a fan of her mother's religious teachings, but from what was taught to her, instilled in her...Deals with the devil never turned out very positive. And as far as she was concerned, allowing him to take her in such a way, was just the same as signing a contract.

She had been sentanced to damnation.

Riccardo began to ascend the stairway, not going as quick, perhaps, as he would like. Yet he wanted, in a way, to savor the moment. He had all night, why rush things? And although she moved a little in his arms, she was not fighting hard enough to justify going faster. And he was far from tired, the alchohol not only breathing new light, but also the excitement enough to re-invigorate his aged body. He could barely believe the time had really come...

And so, apparently, had the girl. For she finally found the consiousness to react. She suddenly, unpredictably, jerked from his grasp and wiggled quickly from his arms. He went to reach for her, but missed as she fell. His arms caught her shirt, and held it partially as she did so, causing it to almost come off as she part-way fell, part-way stumbled away. She barely thought as she began to ran away, she couldn't afford the time to do so.

She found the door and wrenched it open. The only room that she found some solace in was the guest room. Hewie was also there, and now that the man was a genuine threat again, he may be sparked to defend her. She reasoned this, anyway. She stumbled and almost fell several more times, yet still managed to make it with chest heaving and body nearly ready to collapse. The guest room had become a room of sanctuary, regardless of it's true nature. It was a room Riccardo had used to bed woman for years, and had planned to do the same with this girl. She was indeed prolonging the inevitable, and by rushing towards what she thought was hope, she had just sealed her fate.

Busting through the door, she turned around and closed it behind her. She looked around hurriedly, trying to find something to block it from opening from this side, at least for now. She spied a fire poker at the still-hot fireplace, picking it up and wrenching it between the floor and the doorknob. Almost instantly, the door was hit hard, and it was obvious who was on the other side. Hewie awoke with a start, growling as he rose to his feet. He knew something was wrong, just not sure what. And whether he was "allowed" to do anything about it.

Jumping back from shock, she watched the door in earnest; hoping it would hold for at least a little while. He hammered at the door, the iron poker holding rather well all things considered. It bulged in and out, the end that was on the floor skidding just a little each time. Her heart caught in her throat as she watched. He was going to get in...She just knew it...

And that's when it started again. The throbbing, the fire, in her crotch. It pulsed with anticipation of sex, and she couldn't turn it off. She crossed her legs as it intensified, and hot tears stung her eyes as she blinked them away. What the hell was wrong with her!? The last thing on Earth she wanted was to sleep with that man, why was this happening to her?

"...Fiona."

To her shock, the hammering on the door stopped. And at that same exact moment, he began to speak to her through the door. Not angry, not murderous, rage-ridden and mad...Just a light, almost pleasant tone. Because of this, she stopped to actually listen.

"Fiona, why do you run? Why do you insist on prolonging the inevitable? Why must you defy me?"

This was the first time that Fiona actually felt comfortable talking to the man...She was already in a great deal of trouble, and was going to be "punished" when he got ahold of her, anyway. His voice was sweet, sincere...She felt her lips loosening, her guard down, both because of the alcohol.

"I...I don't want you to hurt me..." Her voice stuttered, the weakness apparent in her voice.

"Fiona, my dear...I don't want to hurt you."

"Yes, you do! You want to rape me!"

There was a long pause, one filled with her deep, fretted breathing.

"No, I want to make love to you." His voice came, it was so sure of itself.

She cried out loudly in despair.

"No! Leave me be!"

Another small silence. He seemed to be gathering his words well.

"Fiona...Why do you really hate me?"

The heiress was quite surprised to be asked this question, but didn't hesitate in her answer.

"Because of what you've done...And what you are."

A pause, a collection of thoughts brewing in them both. Even she was surprised at what she said.

"My dear, I did what I did because I had to, in order to survive. Like all animals do...And in the end, I'm nothing more then an animal. Yet I did not choose to be animal, and I sure as hell didn't choose to be this way...Yet one animal, I am not, is a Chameleon. And try as I might, I cannot change my skin, and I cannot change what I am."

It was Fiona's turn to be silent, contemplating the clone's words.

"Open the door, please. I promise you, I won't hurt you. I will be gentle."

Her reply was thoughtless.

"Fuck you."

A small laugh came from the other side of the door.

"Please?"

"I'm not opening the door...You can't tell me what to do!"

This seemed to catch him off guard a little, but he still replied in his sweet manner.

"I'm not telling you, my dear. I'm asking you."

"Then I'm giving you my answer!"

"Well, no...You see, love...I'm going to get into that room. We can do this two ways. Either you can let me in there, open the door, and make things pleasant...Or I can break it down, and be very, very forceful in my endeavours. So, it's your choice, really. Now, which is it going to be?"

She never really thought of it like that before. Even then, she knew she was doomed. Yet she wanted to prolong it as long as possible just in case the impossible happened and she could somehow make it out of this insane asylum. And as the time passed, the grandfather clock ticked faster and faster and very loudly in the small room...She realized that her time is up. What was she going to do? What in God's name was she going to do?

Fiona fell to her knees, and rested her forehead on the door. Helpless. Hopeless.

"I...I just want to go home...I just want everything to be back the way it was...I..."

For a moment, Riccardo did the same, sinking to his knees along with her, now noticing the direction her voice. His hand rested where her lyrical, saddened tone originated through the door. How he wished he could hold and comfort the girl...Take advantage of her weak state in person.

"I know, my love...I know you want your mother and your father..."

Then he situated himself to better speak to her at her level.

"I know that you are young, that you were not yet ready to step into the world. I was once you're age, and just like you are now, I had nobody to help me...To care for me. I never had anybody that ever really cared about me. And I'm not asking you to care about me...I never did ask that of you. What I'm telling you, my dear, is that I can take care of you, now. I can hold you, I can be your "father". Because in a way, I am your father. Every atom, every molecule...An exact copy."

"...But you're not my father..." Fiona said, crying.

"That's right, Fiona. I'm not...I'm not your father. I won't control your life. I won't make it a living hell. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do..."

There was a pause on the other side of the door, and he could just guess what was running through this girl's mind. He anticipated what was going to be said next, like how he knew about her life at home, or that he was a lair, or point out that he was forcing her into something right now. The fact was that he guessed, but it was an educated one. He knew his brother's controlling, dominating ways well. Still, he did not anticipate his daughter's reaction.

"...Really?"

She said it while she was still crying, but her tone was almost that of disbelief.

"Yes, my dear Fiona. He wanted to keep you as your little girl...Didn't he? Yet I...I want to make you a woman."

There was a long, and deep silence.

"You did lie to me..." She cried, her tone accusing.

Riccardo thought for a few seconds, glad at least that the girl was in the very least, communicating.

"When? When did I lie to you?"

"You said you never lied to me...But when I arrived here, you said you were sorry to hear about my accident...Yet you caused the whole thing."

The clone couldn't help but laugh just a little, then smiled at the thought.

"Ah, but I had to that time, M'Lady. I was mearly playing a part at the time...Like a play, you see. Had I told you the truth, you would have distressed yourself a great deal. You would have been very hard to handle..."

"But you lied!"

"Only a white lie! Would you rather I told you the truth at the time?"

Silence on her end again, then an abrupt answer.

"I wish you had just left us all alone..."

"My dear, I will make sure you will never be alone again."

On the other side, Fiona found herself battered and ready to give up. For every reason she gave, he had an explanation. He obviously couldn't see the wrong in anything he did. It was all logical to him, it was all right and righteous.

"I just want this all to end..." She cried, hoping for some solace.

"Let me in, and it will."

Fiona knew that in a way, that was true...But it would also just begin as well...

"Is this about your parents, Fiona? Because of what I did to them?"

She didn't answer that, so he continued.

"Your parents, my dear...They were on their way here, Lorenzo ordered it so, and I complied. You're father's Azoth could not be allowed to exist outside the castle, and your mother shared it as well, by giving birth to you. It had to be done."

Riccardo remembered his estranged brother all too well. He didn't want to fill the girl's mind with the stories he had, as the whole thing would most likely be more of a turn-off if anything. Especially if she found out about her mother as well. Yet there was one aspect of her mother that he just had to tell her.

"I'll tell you about your father one day, dear. But right now...I'll tell you something about you're mother."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's a lie..." She whispered below her breath, but knew he would still hear it.

"It's up to you if you don't want to believe me, my love. But it's the truth. Don't you think it's odd how your parents never told you how they met? Never discuss their past?"

Silence, then she spoke timidly, unsure.

"They said...They said they met over here...While going to school..."

"Ah...Fiona! That's only part of the story...I suppose you mother left out the part where your father decided to bring her to the castle...And decided not to let her leave. Much like you're situation, actually. He locked the gates, and we both cornered her and fucked her over and over again all over this castle. Though we did it in that very guest bed a number of times. Ah, but we must have made an impression, especially your father...She's the one that convinced him to run away to America with her."

So it was out.

It happened not long after Cara left, he brought that slevte young woman home, and everything was formal at first...Then when he locked the gates, and told her she would never be able to get out...Oh, how she fought at first, then she gave in surprisingly easy, and came to accept her new role as the castle fuck toy. Luckily enough, Lorenzo never got a hold of her. They guarded her from him, kept on nigh constant watch. Then one day...They were both, gone. Dissapeared out of thin air, it seemed.

Fiona's mouth ceased to work, her mind refusing to believe it...It didn't make any sense! Her mother and father seemed so in love. They both payed more attention to each other then to her...

"You're full of shit!" She yelled, surprising herself with her foul mouth.

"It's the truth, Fiona. Believe it. Your father met and fell in love with your mother, but she did not come here on her own free will. That was his doing. And then she wanted to stay with him the rest of his life. All the while, she rather enjoyed her stay here after the first few nights of sex...I actually rather remember her being on top a good many times-"

"Stop!"

He did as told, shutting his mouth promptly.

"Just...Stop! I can't take it anymore..."

And as Riccardo sat there and listened, he could hear as the girl began to just sit there and cry. Cry louder and louder, sadder, deeper...And for the first time ever, in his whole life, he felt a pit form in his soul. A pit that felt as though it could swallow up all the tears and cries and the world, and still be hungry for more. A pit that left him feeling hollow inside and needed to be filled. He was always an incomplete man...And now he knew what it felt to actually feel the bottomless pit that he knew lay deep, down inside.

"Fiona...Open the door. I promise you I'll make it feel all better..."

His voice was surprisingly charming and alluring to the desperate ear. And so, after a few moments of strained silence, the door slowly creaked open.

Even Riccardo was surprised by the girls's sudden compliance. He expected more resistance to his comment, yet it appeared to have come at the right time, in the midst of being broken down and stripped vulnerable by his true stories. Stories that had cut deep and made her bleed emotional tears. Now she needed comfort, and this time even the dog couldn't satisfy her needs. She turned to the closest family she had...She remembered the old adage, keep your friends close...And enemies, closer.

He quickly stood up, a pulsing in his loins developing already, almost shaking with anticipation. Positive, now, that it would happen within the next few moments. The taking of the girl for the first time. An opportunity to impregnate and inseminate, to live on...

These thoughts were surprisingly enough pushed to the back of his head as he saw the girl there...Sitting on the floor a mere few feet from the door with her head in her hands, crying her eyes out. Unlike her, he was standing tall as he slowly walked into the room, stature no doubt imposing and predatory to the poor "prey" cowering below. And for a few seconds he just stood there, watching it. Hewie sat back, watching the situation transpire with interest. He had no place here...It was as though history was about to take place.

"What..." She choked, sniffling and red eyed. "What are you going to do to me...?"

At that moment, Riccardo crouched down, his knees touching the floor. She tried to ignore him despite him being so close, but found it harder then ever. Then she felt his eyes trying to meet hers, and then couldn't help but comply as he reached forward and gently grasped her chin. Looking straight into her eyes, he dominated her. He had her. Right then and there...She was his. He saw tears as they filled her azure eyes, wide and fearful. And she looked right back at him. In his eyes she saw a look of searching, seeking something in her own that she herself wasn't sure of. She tried to wrench her eyes away, as his gaze was intense...Frightfully intense and controlling, but his grip tightened and wouldn't allow it, and yet she did not struggle or fight, just kept looking as the tears fell about her fingers, this was it...

"My dear, do not be concerned with what it is I am going to do to you...Just let me do as I may..."

She stood up as he did, her face still in his hand, but now his other arm about her waist in a very slight yet implicative matter. He walked but a foot forward towards the bed, and she backed towards it along with him to avoid coming into contact with him. Then as he leaned forward, the hand that had held her face quickly transferred to the back of her head, brushing the hair from her face as he did so, and the grip was even more subtle then before.

"Let me into your womb."

The girl started again with her crying, it was sudden and desperate...But it was still hopeless. Those words both baffled and disgusted her...Something told her it had an even deeper meaning then the sick one he let on.

"No...!" She cried through the sobs...Yet it wasn't as strong as she would have liked.

"Fiona...What are you running from?"

She closed her eyes as tight as she could, shaking her head...What she would do to make this all go away, all the fear, all the worry...

What was she running from...? She wasn't running anymore, she was in a man's arms...

Her uncle's arms, her father's clone's arms...A murderer, the killer of her parents. A man of unfathomable evil...

The man who was now gently stroking her hair, trying to look into her now closed eyes...

A man, she saw now, that was absolutely obsessed with her...In love with her...And would never let her go. Ever. Not unless he died, and even then, something told her he would never truly be gone. If she just gave up the fight, gave in, perhaps she could have some relief. Like a doctor cutting off a gangrenous limb, after the initial loss one will later find peace. And once they got used to the loss of something so precious, they learn to live with the handicap. Giving up her virginity, her control, her life...

Defying her parents...

A sudden anger overwhelmed and tingled all over her. Not for the murderer before her, but for the people that raised her. Her dictators. The mother that controlled her sex drive, her likes and dislikes, even outdoor exposure. The father that prohibited her social life, her food intake, her very existence...He never beat or molested her, she never cursed or drank in front of her...Yet she somehow felt that perhaps if they had, they would have at least looked at her in the process. Ugo was never home, when he was, he was seldom a father as much as a king of what he felt was his castle. When Ayla actually cooked or cared for her, she was loving, but nonetheless scarce and without apology. Too busy hanging all over him when he had a few times at home. Fiona would be at home downstairs eating her small, portioned meal (after her mother informed her she looked to be "getting fat...") while she heard their rough, loud sex upstairs. She tried to block it out. It was one of the few times she didn't want their attention.

She wanted to run away, to leave it all, but she was too afraid...She never really had a sexual fantasy, but she had dreams of meeting a rebellious man that could sweep her away. Tall, dark and handsome. A leader of the pack. A rebel without a cause. It was far from a murderous mad-man that killed her only known family, but he had been the closest she ever knew. Now was the chance. In the back of her mind, she knew her mother and father were dead, never to come back, but that didn't really matter or come to the point anymore. In her mind they were very much alive, watching over her every mood and criticizing and censoring everything deemed unpleasant...Fuck them. All she wanted to do her whole teenage life was scream a big "Fuck you!" and she never built the courage to say or do so, sickening herself with her own cowardice.

'Let go, Fiona...'

A voice began low, barely notable, but it seeped in. It was like white noise in a busy room. It stuck out, and she began to try and squirm away from the man as she kept shaking her head, kept refusing, denying...

'Fiona, let it go. Forget it all, forget them.'

No, no...

'Fiona. Let it go. Forget it, Fiona. '

No...It was too easy...

'Give in.'

No!

'Give into me, Fiona."

She opened her eyes, and realized it was no voice inside her head, it was Riccardo that was in fact, speaking that nearly unoticable tone...How did he know what she was thinking? Who she was thinking of...?

"Stop running, Fiona."

His tone was surprisingly sweet, not the domineering tone of before. Far less frightening then telling her that he owned her, like before. A chill ran through her, and she shook her head slightly less violently then before.

"What are you running from...? Who are you running from? Fiona, I'm not chasing you anymore...You've been caught. Harvested..."

"I..." She shook her head, eyes tightly shut as she tried to look away.

"Fiona, look at me."

And she didn't want to, because she knew that the minute she did-

"Look at me..."

Her eyes snapped open, and she now saw that Riccardo's eyes were locked with hers, and was inches away from her face. She inhaled sharply, and felt his arms around her waist, and pulled her into him. Fiona's body was pressed hardly into his own, like an ice cube in a fire, she melted, feeling his now raging erection between her thighs as it throbbed there. He breathed onto her face and neck, and her arms were straight and at her sides in shock. Even if she tried to press away from him, she could never win, she knew this, and didn't even try. She sighed in a shaken, tired manner, ending in a cry. He nuzzled her face with his, and she gasped again at the feel of his rough and dry skin brushing hers.

"That's it..." He whispered into her ear. "That's a good girl..."

She didn't deny it; she was always such a good girl, aways did exactly as she was told...

"You are mine; I own you..." He repeated as he brought his face away from hers, and looked back into her eyes.

"Now...However, now you must..." He placed his right hand once again behind her head, and brought it towards his.

"...Give yourself to me..."

Fiona didn't fight it as he came towards her, and planted his lips onto hers. He was not fast, not ruthless or forceful. They both knew full well he could have been if he'd liked, and so she remained in her stance, taking nothing but a step back that went nowhere. His left arm remained encircled around her waist keeping her still, yet it was more implied as force then what was used. The girl could have easily escaped, she just didn't understand nor realize it. This time she was not trapped by a deadly device, just a seductive man.

To a good girl, sometimes all it takes is a little temptation. Especially when it's just what they always wanted.

Despite no longer being forcefully pressed into the man, she remained there, feeding off the heat that pulsed from his loins. The kiss was passionate, not forced or too hard for the poor girl. She had not yet chose to kiss back, but he was positive she soon will. Despite his grace and skill, he made sure the grip on the back of her head was tight, he did not want her trying to sidle away. Aiming mostly for the lower lip, he opened his mouth and slipped in his tongue, prying past her unwilling and stubborn lips that she had forced closed. She made a cry of dismay in her throat, yet it was muffled by his own mouth.

His tongue explored her mouth, running over her teeth and prodding her stubborn one that still rooted itself at the bottom of her mouth. He broke away repetitively for split seconds, then would re-insert it as he repeated the actions in long drawn-out strokes. Her head bent back a little from the small amount of force, and she moaned inside her mouth as she closed her eyes. She didn't understand what was going on, but her body's wall of defense had dropped. Disgust washed over her quickly, but was only sickened for a moment when she realized he did not taste as bad as she would imagine- it was actually quite pleasant. He tasted of wine just as she had drunk not too long ago, minus the unpleasant aftertaste of the alcohol. And for a reason she couldn't understand nor explain, the whole thing began to feel reliving...It was a pleasant surprise, after what she thought would be such a horrible experience. Like the fear of death or dying, only to experience the joys of Heaven and wonder why you ever put up a fight...

The wall fell down.

Riccardo closed his eyes and moaned, pleasure nearly overwhelming him when he felt the girl now cautiously begin to kiss back. It was slow at first, like she was testing him to see how he would react. When it was obvious he was pleased, she joined him in his tongue-dance inside her mouth. Her hand reacted without her consent, moving to behind his head as it pushed it into hers, and in response he was forced deeper into her mouth and throat. She moaned in a satisfied manner as her sudden hunger was beginning to be fulfilled. A fuse was lit within the girl, starting to burn. Yet it led to a stick of dynamite, and soon she would explode.

His hand began to move through her hair, messing it and causing it to stick up everywhere. Her crotch pulsed in response to his, and she knew she wanted something...What, exactly, she could guess at but not quite imagine yet. Her mind still relatively clean, untouched, not able to comprehend what was going through his own. She had no idea what filthy things the man had for her.

After the inital shock and sickness of having the man in her mouth washed over her, she felt a peace almost replace it...The relief still working it's magic. Then she felt him walk forward, towards the bed, and did nothing to stop it. Instead, a certain anticipation flooded her as it pulsed within her system and swam in her veins, of finally having the sex that she was told she could only have once she was wed. Here she was, about to have it with the murderer of her parents, a member of her family. Her heart raced even faster, breath starting to hitch, breathing in his exhaled air. Air that was hot, hurried, and smelled of wine. Chest rising and falling at a quickened rate.

"Oh...God..." She cried as he released his kiss on her, smiling as he pulled away for but a moment.

Immediately, she spat on the ground, the sickness washing over her again. Disgusted and abhorrent of his bodily fluids being anywhere near her, let alone in her mouth. He laughed a little in response, then leaned forward and placed his lips on hers again, giving her a short kiss as his tongue slipped into and out of her mouth like a snake, and she let him do it.

"...Ah, Fiona..."

He sighed as he pulled away and studied her reaction...Chest heaving, eyes fluttering and body shaking. A string of saliva ran from his mouth to hers, she shivered and felt about to vomit as she saw this, wanting to wipe it away, but before she could he pulled his tongue in and closed his mouth. It fell out of sight. Her true self was starting to awaken, he could just see it. His own body tingled with anticipation. He just hoped he would be able to perform as well under so much pressure. There was a lot he would have to prove to this girl, that he would be able to service her as a lover and a caretaker. If he failed her now he may never be able to prove himself to her. When he would touch her, she would shudder and ignore instead of melting and moaning to his advances. Every fantasy in his mind played out like a movie in his thoughts, and he knew, now was the time to bring them to life.

Yet fantasies were just that; fantasies. In them, she would do anything from suck his dick freely; to running and screaming as he tackled and fucked her as she wailed for him to stop. The girl may be placid and compliant now, but he knew that could change if he wasn't careful. And she sure wasn't going to do anything unless he prodded her into it.

Quickly, before even he knew what he was doing, his hand crept it's way under her shirt. Somehow, she hadn't thought of him touching her breasts, she was too distracted with her crotch throbbing away like mad. Her face was a combination of surprise and dismay, and she was about to stop him, then she weakened when she realized it was pointless, when she saw the look on his face. He was done fucking around, there was determination and anger on his face. He wanted her, and he wanted her now.

His warm and rough skin touched hers, and she lost it.

A wail of shock and arousal filled the air, it was shrill and far from the lovely tone he wanted to hear from the girl. She backed away as her skin drew away from his touch, purely out of instinct. He closed the gap quickly, walking after her and cornering her against the bed. She made no further attempt, and closed her eyes and looked away as his hands once again fell upon her.

This time, however, as her eyes closed, he leaned in and joined lips with her again. Slipping past her lips, she moaned in surprise as his tongue explored hers. She kissed back again, but this time, found her own arms resting on his elbows instead of at her sides in a surprised manner. Tears slipped from her closed eyes as she fell into his trap, tasting him and finding herself somehow wanting more.

Now she seemed to almost encourage his behavior by kissing back, and so his hands once again went up her shirt. There was no brassiere there to halt him, so he found his fingertips gracing her large breasts, and then cupped them firmly as he pushed up. She cried out again, but had nowhere else to go besides the bed, and she didn't want that. A flutter rose in his heart as he finally touched her in true passion, and not as a doctor. It felt like Heaven to him, and could swear her muffled cries of dismay were more like that of an angel.

As his hands came up, and held her full, aroused breasts, she gasped again. And her nipples hardened nearly instantly, her chest quickening in it's breathing as he moved under her shirt. He palpated them gently, his hands warm and controlling, and teased the nipples with his thumbs as he kissed. Begrudgingly, they moved away and he separated from her lips, licking up the saliva that resulted as he put his head over her left shoulder and went to undo the lace on her girdle. She trembled in a combination of fear and anticipation as he fastidiously worked at the lace, he wanted her breasts in his mouth, he practically salivated for them like two meals that he had waited a lifetime for.

The lace undone, he quickly slipped it up and over her head. She didn't fight the action, in fact she wanted it gone just as fast. Part of her urging to "get it over with" and another because she found herself wanting to experience sex at long last...And who this man was, what he had done, had ceased to matter anymore. Her subconscious thought her mother and father were still alive, still wanted to make them angry and rebel in every possible way...It was like their eyes were on them in this very second. She could feel them on her, watching...

Slipping over her head, he tossed the shirt away like bad rubbish. He couldn't see much in the darkness, he had shut off the light when he left the room before, and the fire had since died. Not that it mattered much now, he could be a blind man for all he cared. His hands gently came back to caress her breasts. Trying his best to be patient and romantic, a caring lover and a not a starving animal. His palms were warm and cracked, and it only added to the experience to her chilled, sensitive bosom as she started to heave in arousal and her crotch only continued to throb like mad. She moaned and panted, looking away with closed eyes as she tried to "put up" with the constant...Torture? She wasn't sure...

She felt as his thumbs slowly circled her nipples, palms squeezing the large orbs themselves as he leaned forward and kissed her neck. Now she could still feel his hard member against her...she found herself wanting to relieve the throbbing in her cunt, and wanting it inside her. Rubbing herself against it, breath hitching further as the fog inside her head intensified...The fog that blinded her from the man's face, from what was generally accepted as being wrong and right.

Then, unexpectingly, the hot and wet sensation of his mouth on her breast made her shiver, shocking her into near-acceptance. His teeth scrapped along the sensitive parts, he switched between licking and gently sucking, though he obviously tried to lick more then anything for her benefit. And during this, she barely noticed as she was being laid flat on her back on the bed. She cried out in a tone she could only think of as defeat, feeling his weight on top of him as he pushed her up and flat onto the bed, and she wasn't going to get up under her own power.

And it wasn't just the weight of the tall, large man that lay on her, it was her weakened, tired, drunken state. She felt like a turtle rolled onto her back. The still-girl had no real energy, no strength within her. She could not move even a muscle, not able to move her legs open nor closed, unable to push this man off of her or run away if she so desired. Her vision began to blur a little as the combination of alcohol and stress began to take it's toll. Not even a word of protest could escape her lips. Her full, laden stomach putting pressure on her body as it sank into the bed.

Hopelessness sank in just as quickly; it had already began, true...Even she, however, recognized that this was only just foreplay. Flashes of sex passed through her mind, flashes that happened so quickly she could barely make out the faces of the people involved. Yet it became apparent that through them all, were different woman, no doubt through the eyes of one man. They were hollering and wailing, or panting with sweat rolling from them in beads as they were thrust into violently. The room was at time dark like now, or fully lit in the middle of the day, the room sometimes changing from the guest bed room to various rooms in the castle, to even outside...

Her mother flashed through in one of the last ones...And then, she saw the same exact room, flipped, and saw it through the eyes of what must have been her mother; and saw Riccardo there...A younger, handsome man...Fucking her. Just a flash, not enough to hurt her subconscious, to make her sick...But enough to make the anticipation that much better. She cried out suddenly as her body racked with the feeling of hot, blinding desire...What was happening to her!?

All alone, but especially now, the full taboo of what was occurring was blaring in her mind. The murderer of her parents, a clone of her father, her uncle, someone that was at least thirty or so years older then her, this man that she hated, had shot her dog, chased her down with a gun, and was now about to rape her...Had his tongue in her mouth, mouth and hands on her breasts...It made her skin crawl, skin draw away, legs want to compulsively kick and run from...Right now, he was laying on top of her, erection poking between her legs.

And why was it all making her ache for it? It begged for him to stick it up, up all the way into the very reaches of her body...It was an alien feeling, one she had never really experienced before. It drove her mad, and she wanted so to move down and do something to relieve it, it was almost painful. She knew she had to be wet like before by now, and it all made her sick, if she wasn't in such a fever she might feel sad or disgusted, but right now she just wanted something to quench her hunger for a large cock between her legs, wedged there and thrusting madly-

Stop! Stop, now...

Her consciousness tried to scream out through the before-mentioned fog, yet it was far from the foghorn it tried to be, it was more like a small voice in the distance. Her arousal was like the lighthouse, trying ever to be reached and accomplished. Resolved.

Riccardo's heart fluttered as he lay atop the girl, not yet penetrating her or even laying between spread legs yet. However he knew this would soon be the case. His weight pinned her to the bed, and her face laid more next to his neck then being able to see her eye to eye, he knew this would soon change. The large erection he still sported raged between his legs, and it poked her graciously in the thigh, had he been a bit more modest he may have felt embarrassed to be so obvious of his intentions. He was a full grown, possessive and dominating man, however, with experience with many woman in his bed, he was far from modest...In fact, he was proud of the organ as it indicated his apparent arousal.

This was all going well enough to plan; the girl had not chose to run again like he predicted. The food and alcohol seemed to have it's effect in impeding judgement; yet he knew it was his words and touch that had the most effect. She had fallen to him, and now he was about to claim his prize. It was like he was an animal in the brush, that had finally won the heart of the most prized female in the land. A buck fighting for his doe; a lion for the lioness, and she stood there ready to be mounted. All his hard work was about to pay off, the time, the money, the effort, his life was finally going to turn around.

Everything was finally going to go his way, for once...He swore he'd never see the day.

He couldn't see the girl below him very well, it was dark in the room and the only light that existed came from the small lines of light from around the edges of the sheet that covered the window. And this was only moonlight from the full moon that existed outside. One of the lines reached across her face, and showed her closed eyes, her face that showed only frustration and confusion. She was heavily aroused, but didn't want to admit or except it. This was his major advantage.

Tonight, he would make her love him, tonight...She would cum for him.

Fiona's full, voluptuous, and aroused breasts moved beneath him as she breathed. Though he was still fully clothed, it was starting to drive him wild. He didn't want to take his shirt off; despite being a dark room, he didn't want the girl to so much as glimpse his scarred body. Though part of it would have been incredibly arousing to him, showing the girl his face was titillating enough, but it damaged her perception of him. If she was aroused now, she may not be once she glimpsed his full form. Granted, nothing could stop him from raping the poor thing if he chose to, yet he knew that careful handling now would serve him well later in life.

Her bare chest against his clothed one, he reveled in her voluptuous warmth. Surely, no being is perfect, all with their imperfections, wishes and desires for something better. However, whatever imperfection Fiona possessed was hid well and was unoticeable to Riccardo as he moved his hands to her hips, holding her steady as he kissed hr on the lips again, moaning inside her mouth in fulfillment. A little fat here, a scar there, painfully pale skin...Who cares?

Riccardo pulled away, then tried to look the girl in the eyes before he began to move south, but found she still kept them closed. They appeared almost plastered shut, tears about them, gunking them up. Even now she cried, despite having very little ability for the tears themselves to exit. He found himself suddenly caressing her face instead of her chest, running the back of his fingers against her cheek. He sighed wistfully as he leaned forward and pecked her on the lips, and started a trail of kisses starting from those very lips, slowly downward. Her chin, then the most tender spot of her jugular (which caused her to bristle and shudder) then down between her breasts. While there, he licked and kissed the sides of her lovely pale orbs, palming them and feeling their warmth and weight.

His kisses continued downward, placed upon her relatively flat stomach. A few put upon the very top of the skirt that covered her waist. Hands placed on either side as he went to gently take it off by sliding it off her hips. Immediately she reacted, trying to draw up her legs and grabbing his hands with hers as she tried to force him off. His weight and strength was too much, however, and was all in vain. Fiona didn't even try to refuse by way of words, the man seemed to have a way with words himself, and would most likely talk her back into it anyway...

"I...I...!" She stuttered, trying to refuse but not finding the words.

Like a flash, he rose back up to her face and smothered her lips with his again, but tenderly, and with grace.

"Hush, love...Don't speak. Not yet..."

He smiled a little, just enough to see his teeth...And they were such a lovely shade of white, she couldn't help but be able to catch them in such a gloomy dark. They were nice...

"You'll be making plenty of noise in just a moment..."

A lethal cocktail of horror and arousal overcame the girl in a sudden wave; she had a feeling what was coming next. He was going to take off her skirt, and do...Something, what she wasn't sure of. What sex exactly was, was still somewhat of a mystery to her. She knew what happened, sure, but what it would feel like, what exactly foreplay entailed and the details still left her in the dark. A raging, throbbing anticipation came back between her legs, pulsing in her clit as her nipples hardened again and the organs themselves engorged with blood.

She had no idea why this man was doing this to her...All he had to do was talk in his charming voice and touch her, threaten her, and she found herself needing him firmly between her legs. It no longer made her sick or disgusted as much as excited, though there was still a fear to it all...Whether it would hurt, especially since this would be her first time. Still, she wanted none of it, and would have done anything to be far and away out of that situation. How she wished she could run, and run, and never look back...

In the end, she was tired of running...She thought seriously for a moment about what he had said earlier...What was she truly running from? Was it this man, or...Was it something else? Something more from within then without...?

What Fiona didn't know - and it was probably best if she didn't - was that although Riccardo and his actions were a factor, it was more the situation that was driving her arousal. Being caught and forced into sex was unknown to her, a major turn-on. It ran in her family, apparently on both sides. The Belli side loved the chase, her mother's side love the capture. Her mother had the same reaction twenty years back, moaning as she was kissed and groped by two identical men as they undressed her, fondling her smaller breasts and licking out her crotch as she cried for them to stop, yet spread her own legs to them at the same time. It made her fall for Ugo so easily; she desired to be dominated. And just as like father; like son...Like mother, like daughter.

His body slid down again, his rough and fragrant clothing sliding over her now sensitive, flushed body. On her pale skin was now a rosy glow of a blush, her nipples practically beet red from blood. He once again started kissing her belly-button, and hands slid again to her hips. Again a noise of protest escaped her lips, again it was ignored, and again she knew it would happen. Resistance was, and always had been, futile.

Fingers slipping between the skin and skirt, he slowly and gently began to take off the clothing. Sliding it carefully from her wonderful thighs, his rough and cracked skin making her sensitive, aroused and soft skin twitch and draw away. Small, shocked gasps jerked from her as he did so, wanting to scream out in protest and try to kick him away again, yet she was pinned down and she knew she would only be kissed again if she tried to speak. She thanked Christ she still wore panties, as she wasn't quite ready to be completely exposed to this man. Riccardo tried to keep himself slow and passionate, instead of ripping her clothes and impaling the poor girl like he so wanted. Self-discipline was not his strong suite, but in bed, he knew it made all the difference. He so wanted the girl to orgasm for him, feel her wonderful virgin cunt squeeze him inside her. There was no more wonderful feeling in the world. And it would all be because of his hard work. It would be hard, though...So very hard, and it would be impossible if not for the fact that he had been gearing himself up for this for so long, getting himself ready, and fucking woman like a champ for years until the last twenty of absence.

Oh sure; he wasn't always so good. His first was such a mess, went off in under two minutes and she damn near left right then and there. He then grabbed her and held her down, fucking her a second time to a much better rhythm, though she still didn't cum. It wasn't until the third time he made a girl scream like mad, then sigh beneath him in absolute exhaustion, sweating and panting. Then she cried afterwords, saying that she wanted to leave and that he needed to let her go. He rolled off of her, she crawled towards the car door, opened it, stood up, grabbed her clothes in a huff and walked down the dark forest road. He never knew for sure if she made it home or not. His first time was in the back seat of his first car, which was still parked in the castle parking garage outside it's gate, but was rarely used. He never realized it at the time, but looking back, she could have easily had him put away for rape, despite the fact that she never vocally protested, and did consent to have sex with him in the first place. Either she never went to the authorities, or they decided to never put him away. He never stopped beating himself up over that one, he was a damn stupid kid, and made some damn stupid mistakes...

He found it rather ironic, now, that the love of his life came from the back seat of a car. This one, however, he would surely not disappoint. Not the first time, not the second...Not ever. This was his mate, this was his Lady, his life, for life. His better half, his other half, what would complete him and be his salvation. He had already been in love, now he had to prove just how in love he was.

Sliding the skirt from her lovely feet, he pulled them off. She was kicking the whole time, trying even now to get away. Yet he knew that she never could, she was too tired, full, and drunk. A surefire way to make somebody easy to work with. Her stomach was laden with alcohol and food, body sapped of all it's energy from so much stress and running about. Oh, she was going to sleep tonight, that was sure, once he got done with her. He flipped the skirt away like useless trash. It just missed the top that lay there.

Hewie paced about, unnerved and whining. He walked towards the window, which still had the taped-up sheet trapped to it, and tried to hide behind it in order to gain some sort of "den" atmosphere besides the bed, which he had become terrified to go near since the male had started dominating the female. He smelled sex and arousal in the air from them both, and didn't want to interfere the alphas when they bred. It was an awkward situation for him to go from a protector to...this. Hiding from what had gone from an enemy to his alpha, the breeding pair of the pack. If he was seen, the large male may try and attack him for being by his breeding female while in heat.

There was this imperfect flap that wasn't taped, and he stuck his paw in there, and pressed his body into it. It came undone with difficulty, but within minutes he crawled inside. He found himself pressed up against the cold glass, and it was rather uncomfortable. Yet he felt secure, and he was suspended in there for a few moments, until the tape could no longer hold the dog inside his security pocket, and it unglued, tumbling him a short few inches to the floor without much inconveince for him. Yet this also undid the rest of the sheet, and it came falling down, letting the window open to the promiscuous activity of the two lovers on the bed.

The dog reacted in confusion, making a noise similar to a growl and a whine as he backed up, covered in the sheet, and eventually ran out of it and under the bed. He hoped the alphas wouldn't bother him there. Riccardo looked up in surprise as he saw the sheet fell, making a grunt in his throat to show his irritation. Fiona didn't take much notice, laying there panting and fretted as her head turned from side to side, eyes switching from plastered shut to quick glances of the overtaker above her. Yet the biggest difference was the moonlight streaming in from the window, which was bright and a light blue. It illuminated them both more then either would like, and the cold air from the broken hole felt harsh on her now warming body. She also didn't like the exposed feel it brought to her, somehow it was like the whole world could see them. She knew she was in the middle of nowhere, but that didn't stop her from feeling what she did.

Yet Riccardo was - again - always one to take advantage of a bad situation. They already had a romantic dinner, now they had the moonlight...

"Ah, my dear..." He spoke, his voice even deeper then the normal fare, drawn out. "Please, grace me with your Moonlight Sonata..."

On cue, he slid back up, putting the weight of his chest back onto hers, pinning her again. Looking down onto her face to carefully watch her reaction. His right hand snuck down, and gently traced down into her panties, slipping beneath the band of elastic, and sliding into her slit, though not quite penetrating. As expected, she cried out in a high pitch, trying to slip up and away, but couldn't with his weight on her, face contorting into shock and distress.

"Wonderful, Fiona...Wonderful..."

Pulling his hand back out, he smiled at the girl again. She closed her eyes and turned around in shame, only to have her now exposed earlobe licked and nibbled on. His nose nuzzled her jawline, making small moanings in that very ear. It was strangely erotic, and didn't notice that he had actually taken some of his weight off of her, more concerned with turning the girl on then keeping her down. And she was too focused on his actions to pay attention. It made her feel more comfortable, it made her feel as though he was a lover, not a rapist.

"...You sing like an angel."

His tone was pleased. And why not? He always wanted to fuck an angel...

She lay there, an innocent creature with her legs closed tightly out of fear. Although a virgin without any experience, she knew enough to understand what went where. She convinced herself, falsely, that as long as she kept them closed no harm could befall her...She convinced herself...but even she knew she was full of it.

Again, he moved downward. Faster this time, kissing down her neck and each one of her breasts, taking one in his palm, feeling it's warm weight in his grasp, and kissing the nipple. Taking it into his mouth, he inhaled and sucked it gently, flicking at it with his tongue and listening to her increased breathing with satisfaction. Then he moved to the left one after a few minutes, the previous glinting with his saliva in the moonlight as it fell back to her chest. Yet his right hand took the job of moving down to her panties as he saught to slowly loosen them. His thumb went between the elastic on them and her skin, slowly working them off. He wanted them off unnoticed before he got down there. He wanted his mouth between her legs to be a surprise.

Down between her breasts on her chest, then her stomach. The poor thing was so pale, one could see some of the blue veins beneath her flesh. She probably never exposed her stomach to the sun. Never wore a small shirt, never sunbathed...Probably never went out. She looked almost starved, as she had such large breasts, but a small form. This was not natural, as attractive as it may have been. The girl seemed eager to eat, so somebody, it appeared, had depraved her. Yet her form was not tight, like she had been athletic or active in life. Though the maid was far and away worse off then she ever was, at least the maid never 'missed' nourishment, having never had it and then taken away. The whole thing might have turned him off had this not been Fiona, the one he had been waiting for, for so long. His tongue, instead, found it's way into her bellybutton and lapped away like a dog drinking water after a hot day's run. Her head turned from left to right in distress unsure how to react to this whole thing...In a way, she wished he would just get it over with.

Riccardo's patience reached an end; he was ready to start trying to work those legs open. The underwear he was trying to take off didn't make it far off her hips, she had closed her legs like a large steel trap. He kissed down to her crotch, lips now at the junction of her panties and her skin as they stopped right above the top of her thighs. He wasn't able to get them any farther. Smiling to himself and letting a haughty laugh go, he looked up at the girl, her eyes welded shut and looking away, and noticed she was no mouthing things like "Please, God..." and "Stop" silently.

He planned to get her to say something out loud, indeed. But it wasn't going to be "stop". He kissed the area again, deeper, and slid his tongue down into her slit that the panties still covered. But quickly, so that it just barely graced it. She didn't shave, he noticed, probably ashamed of the very part of her body that made her a woman.

The reaction was instantaneous, he felt her legs tighten even closer, could see and even hear the straining of her muscles as she twisted her ankles about one another and closed them like she was preventing herself from trying to go to the bathroom in a time of need. Now that he wasn't placing weight on her, she actually had twisted her torso around and was attempting to crawl away. He had to change his plan of attack.

Talking, he knew..Sometimes talking would weaken their defenses...

"My love...Why are you being so difficult? Please, open to me. I told you I would be gentle..."

Nothing, she shook her head and whined a little. It rather actually pained him a good deal.

"...Fiona, you're the most beautiful, immaculate, and charming woman I've ever had the pleasure of spending good company with. You're skin is soft, supple, delightful. Fair, like that of a painting created by the brush strokes of the most talented men in history. Yet even an artist could never duplicate your nature, you're voice and absolute attraction that goes far beyond just your appearance. You're soul, my dear...I wish to partake in you're soul. I know I am not worthy of you, yet I am asking you to have me prove my worth. If not, I will take it from you, as I must...But I am giving you a choice. The choice was always there, I am now giving you you're last chance to take advantage of the offer. Must I steal you're virginity, or am I to take it from you?"

"Please..." She tried again. Her voice in tears.

"You're beautiful..."

She sniffled, and teared up even harder...And not just in shame...

That was the first time anyone had ever said that to her. They may have thought it, may have wanted to say it...But never was it said, and in such a meaningful, truthful way. His voice was almost sad, and dare she say almost pleading. He was not begging, however. That much was certain. Riccardo was not one to beg, especially for sex. Yet it was obvious he wanted her to know his real affection for her...It wasn't so much that he found her attractive, it was that he wanted her to feel beautiful, sexy...Like a person that could have sex, be allowed to...Want to. That wasn't like her, that wasn't expected of her...

Not speaking to the man, she continued to lay there, panting and tired. Stressed, wanting this all to just be over with. She now knew what was going to happen, it was just a matter of time. In the least, she wouldn't be able to say she didn't resist...

She would be lying to herself, however.

Riccardo lay himself back on the girl, and kissed his way back up her body. He had not given up, however. As he did this, he pressed his body into her, pushing down between her legs with his pelvis and eventually placing his groin atop her crotch, pushing down hard and upwards. Though not penetrating her, it was enough of a point to make her feel nearly faint. Her heart jumped up into her chest and her head felt as though it was floating up and away from it's body. His right knee came up between her legs, pressing down and hard as he tried to separate them. All the while his face was in the crook of her neck, nibbling, kissing, and sucking away. She winced as he was a little rough and nearly bit her. Yet it was intentional, drawing attention to what he was doing upstairs so that she wouldn't take notice of what was going on down below. His hands again sought her breasts, twisting them between his thumbs and forefingers, she gasped amd whined again, and tears began to seep from her eyes in not so much pain as over-stimulation.

She barely noticed Riccardo moving down her body, and by the time she realized what he was doing, it was far to late to react...

Taking each ankle tightly, so tight in a million years she could never wrench them from her grasp- he lifted them up and apart as far as they would go. He didn't even look at her face as he did so, his mind was focused on but one thing...What, exactly, was between those legs.

The girl cried out in a tone that was both surprised and dismayed...Perhaps horrified would have been a better word. She would have sat up and tried to push him away, and actually tried to...Yet her muscles tensed, and went nowhere. Her arms and hands pushed down on the bed to try and force her upwards, but the little strength she had was not enough to get the job done. And in the end, she knew it was fruitless...Even if she wasn't weak and weary, she would never be able to force this man away from her...He was strong, yes...But above all, determined.

Finally, she managed to muster up the ability to rise her back from the bed, and managed to crawl backwards a 'shocking' inch or so. Yet that was far from enough to do any good. Yet it was enough to see exactly what he was planning to do.

"No...No...NOOOOO! Please, no...Don't...Please, no...Don't-AHHHH!"

Her cries fell on deaf ears, and she saw but a flash of him coming down upon her before she felt it. His warm and wet mouth zeroed into her tight pussy. The tongue delved deeper into the fold between her legs, tasting every inch and ounce of her. He knew that a woman's cunt wasn't her main apparatus for pleasure, yet the mere shock and suddeness of his action would be more then enough to make her scream...And oh, how she screamed.

"Ahhhhhh-AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! Stop! Nooo-"

And everytime a scream seperated those wonderful, kissed lips...His tongue got more daring. It slipped out of her cunt and he forced down pressure as he kept his tongue on her, but moved it up, pushing it into her clit. Even he could barely believe how delicious she was. He inhaled her smell, which was heavy on her. It irradiated from her juices, and it turned him even further on, like an animal senting for a mate. And surprisingly, for Fiona, the smell was just as strong.

The smell wafted up from between her own legs and met her nostrils. Before, this would have absolutely disgusted her and she would have been ashamed of herself...And she certaintly still was, though it wasn't the first thing on her mind. Through the pained haze of embarrasement and shyness, it made her tingle, and fill with a strange warmth...An almost confidence in herself. She felt like a woman...She smelled like a woman with her powerful stench.

When she tried to close her legs, she realized there was just no way in hell it was ever going to happen. He was too powerful and dead-set on this endevor, and she was too weak. She was already a small girl, and by default she was like some delicate flower that was a slave to any which picked it and held it. The man could do with her as he wished, truely. Every lick he took make her shiver and tingle, jerk and struggle...She had never been so embarrased and vunrable in her whole life, her womanhood was exposed openly to this man, legs apart and in the air as he kept them there, licking it like a cat to a saucer of milk. It was mind-blowing in the absolute extremity of occurences...

She began to pant, mouth open and working as she breathed hard in and out. All she could hear was a slurping, poping sound as Riccardo proceeded to eat her out. Against her will, she started to cry. One long moan after another as it was forced out of her mouth. It was the only thing she could do...She had to do something to combat the overwelming shame and disgust she was feeling...This was wrong. She didn't want to do this, didn't want it to feel good...

But oh God...Sweet, merciful God...Did it ever feel good...

To say she was embarassed would be putting it lightly. She tried in vain to put the pleasure she was feeling out of her mind, so that she may only experience that very shame she was feeling...Except every time she tried, he dug deeper, he lapped and tickled her sensitive areas with his tongue, and it blew those feelings right from her consiousness like dust in the wind. She clutched at the sheets below her in desperation, keeping her body up as he plunged deeper and worked harder. Tears began to leak from her tightly closed eyes, from both shame...The Saddness...And the utter extremity of the experience. She was so touchy...So sensitive and ready...So wet and hot, that the impact was just that excruciating, like torture.

Grabbing her thighs, he pushed in harder, clutching them nearly painfully as he forced his head down, nibbling a small sliver of her labia folds. She jerked harshly underneath his grip, and she squirmed even worse, panting and crying a little in desperation. In response, he slowed down, and licked from this spot up into the crease that joined her leg to her hip, and sighed wistfully.

As he licked her again, Fiona's mind began to float away. Millions of thoughts rushed through her disjointed head. The fact that his tongue was in her mouth was bad enough, she could still taste him, and if it wasn't for the fact that he was watching she would have tried to spit a little to get it out. She could barely believe this was happening, the gravity of the situation hitting her. Riccardo had her naked in the bed, and was now licking at her folds, eating her...Murderer of her parents, uncle, clone just like her father...This was so wrong.

Yet the feeling of what was wrong, and what was right, quickly faded as she began to feel something alien from her neither regions. It was a warmth, and it was growing around her cunt and inner thighs. It was a sensation that was telling her something was being done that was indeed very right, the correct buttons being pushed, the right motions being put through. She didn't understand it, she didn't want any of this, wasn't turned on by this man, even in the mood for sex...Yet this was steadily changing as she was being put in such a helpless position, forced to feel something for him. It was a real turn-on, and she didn't want to admit any of it.

If she would have seen it with her eyes, she would have known her labia and clit were enlarged, engorged with blood and turning purple. Her body wanted him, even if her mind didn't. Fiona's system interpreted his careful ministrations as a lover that was worthy of having children with, a maternal sensation that was uniquely female, and was exactly what he knew how to replicate. To please. To sensate...He stopped lapping for a moment, stopped, and looked at her slit. He leaned forward and blew onto it, which made her back arch again from the sensation of cool air in the even colder room, her arms strained almost painfully on the bed as she nearly lost it. Then he stopped and rubbed the side of his face of her muff, reveling in the feel of her pubic hair on his cheek. While over there, he licked the crease of her junction again. He could do this all day if he had to.

Fiona, however...Fiona could not.

He could see the girl reacting, body twitching to his actions, legs spasming and obviously wanting to stay open. He nibbled where he was, kissing the inside of her lower thigh...God, did it feel good...So good, it was almost painful...The only relief in sight was the last thing in the world she wanted. The concept of just waiting for her arousal to stop did not enter her mind, because it wouldn't. He would not stop until she gave him what he wanted...And that was sex. One could only fight temptation so long before they gave in. And the simple fact of the matter was that it was easier to give in then to fight; and the more she reasoned with herself, the weaker her defenses became.

She could barely even feel her own legs, what with so much strain and energy being pumped into them to keep them open, stressing and straining. She didn't want to open her eyes and see it, but now she felt the chill creep all over her thighs...Riccardo inwardly congratulated himself in victory. Before him, her mound quivered in anticipation. He wished he could see more of it in the moonlight, cursing himself for turning the lights off earlier so she could see less of him. It didn't matter in the end, he supposed. It was what he felt that truly mattered. And what he smelled. He leaned forward and inhaled his Lady's scent, loudly, like a cat sniffing it's mate to determine if she was in heat or not. She was an intoxicating mix of aromas, and reminded him heavily of her mother. Something told him she would taste the same, too.

Continuing his tease, he rubbed his stubble on her inside thigh. Relishing how she jerked and twitched at his touch. He licked her left crease some more, then kissed it tenderly, making each breath strong and intentional as it hit her skin. She felt him flick her clit with his tongue, and her back arched in the air and she screamed louder then ever before, her hands grabbing the sheets and squeezing them between her fingers. Shame disappeared when she felt it, and suddenly she didn't care anymore. Her clit had engorged itelf and was pumping away as it filled with blood. He did it again, and she screamed nearly as loud as her head tossed and turned body raising off the bed. The teasing had made her sensitive to any sort of touch, and her body tensed as her muscles clenched. She waited, wanted more, and she got it. He held off a little, and went to her folds as he nibbled and licked at the skin that surrounded her cunt and clit, going between a lap and a soft and gentle series of bites. His hands were both gently on her calves as he kept her in place, no longer needing to hold her there.

Brushing his lips against her pussy, her cunt and then her clit, he saw the reaction he was waiting for. She thrust herself towards his mouth, it was subtle at first, but he saw it clear as day. The girl most likely didn't even know she did it. He did it again, flicking his tongue as he finished, and she thrust again, moaning as she did so. It was time.

Licking the fingers on his right hand, he moved them up into her twat, and into her folds. Jerking and drawing at his touch, she remained still and silent regardless. He heard her panting and breathing increase, however, and could very easily hear it from his downward position. He looked up to garner her reaction, and saw her hands clutched to the bed, back arched, tits hard and nipples pointed, mouth open as she open-mouthed breathed, hard, barely catching up to her own breath. Her eyes were still closed, he had accepted at this point they would most likely remain that way. Yet tears squeezed out from under her eyelids, and her whole body, especially her face, was blushing a bright red. (From the little he could see in the moon-light, anyway.) Gently fingering her, he then raised his fingers to his lips and getting a taste. He very audibly licked his fingers, trying to get her to hear just how delicious he thought she was. Slurping and swallowing loudly. Then he held onto the outside of her thighs again, and began once more to lower his mouth to her opening, forcing it deeply inside. She screamed a high pitch that had a crescendo to it. Fiona tried to fight again, not sure why, it was enjoyable...Yet it was a surprise, and unwanted, she reacted the only way she knew how. Yet as she squirmed, she found her body starting to heat up and build, and she could feel it...It was a turn-on.

She found herself struggling to stop squirming about, as the more she did it, the deeper he plunged. And as much as she liked it, she knew it to be wrong. Even now she wanted to reach down, and grab his skull, and push it deeper into her cunt. Plant him so deep she could feel him hit the bone. But no; she couldn't...Fought the instinct, the desire, to reach orgasm with this horrible, evil man. Or rather; homunculus, which was even worse. Instead, she channeled all her cravings and spasms into one thing, her voice. It was the lesser of all the evils. Either voice her pleasure or give into her needs, she chose the former. She cried every few seconds, sometimes low and short, barely audible...Others high pitched, fast, or drawn-out. Moans, constant pants, she kept her eyes closed and looking away, not wanting to see if she was granting the man any pleasure by being so noisy. So be it, she had to do something...Sometimes one needs to compromise even with themselves. Her panting increased as her mouth grew dry and sticky, God could she use a glass of water right about now-

"Uh!"

Her mind stopped wondering as he began to swirl his tongue about, and found the sensation of what had to be his thumb on her clit. Oh, God...!

"Uh! Uuuuhh! God, oh God...!"

Fiona's muscles started to clench as the train that was impending orgasm began to speed through her body. She was going to cum if he kept it up, and in the back of her mind she knew that she anticipated it, wanted it...

And just like that, he stopped.

So close...She felt herself feeling actually rather frustrated and disappointed. Did he not know what he was doing? She was just ready to hit her peak...

Eating her juices, he withdrew his tongue and went back to nibbling her folds, trying to stay away from her clit so that she could come down. He wanted her teased, begging, he wanted her to practically scream for her to fuck him, though he knew she would never do that...Well, not tonight, anyway. Her body relaxed and her breathing returned to almost normal, he could see her nipples were still visibly aroused, her clit still engorged, enlarged, with blood and a dark purple.

Out of the blue; he then gave her clit a quick little suck, having it in his mouth for a moment or two. She jerked to attention, mumbling something incoherent quickly as she tried to do something besides bite her own tongue off. Fingers digging into the covers, body tensing like a rubber band, ready to snap. He then continued to lick from her cunt, up to her clit, a tight line that he steady increased as he lapped the bottom of her clit, mimicking the thrust of a cock as it would brush it from outside as it pumped inside her. She loved it, he could tell. Her hips started to grind against him, thrusting along with him. Panting again, she turned her head to the right side with her mouth open as she cried and moaned. Poor thing, he really should give her some relief...

Nah.

Stopping again, he actually heard her moan in distress and anger. Long, drawn out and disappointed-sounding. Now, he preferred this sort of torture far beyond the sort Lorenzo would deal out to hapless visitors many years ago, with instruments and restraints. This far and away satisfied him well enough...

He tried next to lap at her clit again, but it drew no reaction as she lay there, apparently un-enthused (and no doubt; pissed off) and at this point he knew he needed a different strategy. His tongue darted in and out of her cunt again, eating her out, and very noisily slurping up her juices. Then he licked in rhythm from her opening to her clit, and once again her rocking started back up. All he needed now was to drive her right up and over the edge...

Flicking her clit with the edge of his tongue, she jerked once, then twice. He rolled his tongue into a small funnel- something that oddly enough, he could do, but Ugo couldn't, despite being a genetic ability - and rolled it around her clit. He bobbed his head as he pressed into her twat, hard. He gripped her thighs as hard as he could, pushed in, rocked his full face into her...

Fiona didn't need much imagination to send her over the edge, she just had to look down and see him between her legs, eating away...His strong hands on her thighs, the very taboo of his actions towards her, the force he was using...It drove it all home, and as he dove into her, she began to feel the steady rise, the sensation...It was alien to her, but she recognized it, still. She was going to cum.

She didn't want him to stop, if he did, she was going to dig her fingers into his shoulders and then smack the hell out of him. If he stopped now, she would just die. Her breathing increased as her chest, breasts along with it, rose and fell at an accelerated rate with each one heavy and almost concentrated on. Her mouth was open and making small, drawn out moans as she felt as though going up a roller coaster lift-hill, steadily rising and rising until she was going to fall over the edge. Making the noises was the only thing she could do at that point; and she concentrated fully on it, unable to cope with the intense, wrong feelings rising inside her. Her eyes were open a crack, and through them her vision blurred and darkened, small flashes of light going off here and there. And in the center of the sensation was the throbbing in her cunt, the sensation of wanting the man's cock inside her, pumping harder and harder...Pushing into her as far as he could go as he forced her legs open-

"UUuuuuuhhhhaaaaHHHHHHHHH-AHHHH-AAHHHHH!"

Fiona's mouth opened, and she cried out, uninhibited as her body tensed like a rubber band and let loose as she came; and a sensation she could only explain as pure and utter bliss rocketed through her body. This was the reward the body used to let a female know her mate was a caring one, a worthy one. Unfortunately, her body and mind didn't particularly agree. That didn't stop her from enjoying the experience. It was like she was blind to all around her...Nothing but the feeling, the reason humanity existed and lived, ate, worked...To experience sexual pleasure, to peak as she did right then and there.

The French called it the "little death", and no wonder. Fiona had felt as though she had died and gone to heaven. His chiseled, perfect white teeth felt even better against her now extremely sensitive clit. The grip of his hands lessened on her legs, and he moaned rather satisfied, and it still didn't dawn on her in that moment who it was between her legs, all she could dwell on was the train still pummeling through her body...

Nerve endings fired little sparks of intensity in her crotch, and it clenched around nothing in particular. Her cunt practically ached for a cock inside, and as it tightened she desperately wished he would have at least inserted a finger when the time came. It fired several times after another, one overlapping the next, her toes curling from the experience. She took a moment to catch her breath, and then her back slowly flexed back to it's original position, and her grip on the bed had lessened as well. She let out a long sigh, and swallowed, wetting her dry, cracked throat.

"Oh...God..."

She lay there, steadily gaining some semblance of consciousness. Riccardo gently stroked her thigh as he then pulled away, and kissed it gently, and then pecked little ones down the inside. She slowly and shakidly closed them, they clasped together as she pulled them up and away, and she rolled to her left side. He let her do it, watching on his knees as he licked his lips and swallowed. Yes, she tasted just like her mother...

Her hands left his head, and drifted up to her face, covering them as she trembled there...Orgasm falling, body returning it's post-clocial state, mind shifting gears...

"Oh...God..."

She repeated the Lord's name in a more warbled, sad tone this time. The gravity hit her, and she felt herself overwhelmed by shame. She had just been eaten out by her parent's murderer...By her own uncle. And she screamed, and she panted, moaned...She experienced her first orgasm. Even now, she still craved for sex. Not in her brain, but in her loins, that still pulsed away for penetration. Unlike a man that will often fall asleep after sex, satisfied and exhausted, a woman will crave more. Like it or not, this was still the case for her. Fiona still craved him inside her.

An awkward silence filled the room. Riccardo still knelt there, despite her legs being drawn up and away. He placed his hands on the bed to steady himself, and started to catch his own breath. Licking his lips of her juices, he swallowed to quench his dry throat. He had developed a hard-on from the experience, and was surprised (and glad) that he had not practically came from the foreplay itself. It had happened to him before. Yet he was older now, more experienced, built up a sexual tolerance. This was, it had proven, to be the ultimate test of his will.

A massive wave of pride hit him, gratification, at having pleased the girl. Given her fulfillment that she had never known before. Pleasure she would have never experienced had he not been there. The wonderful, overwhelming urge that was the body and what it could accomplish. Perhaps now, he hoped, she would be looser and easier to handle. Now that she knew of the level of care he could bestow, how he could wield pleasure or torment at the drop of a hat, could do with her body as he saw fit...She would be in the palm of his hand, just like her pretty little cunt had been moments earlier. She knew now only part of what he was capable of.

Sex was like a drug; when you were finished you either crashed or wanted more. Sometimes both. And Riccardo didn't crash; not yet. He was addicted to her like cocaine; wanting more and wanting it now. Pushing himself to the limit if need be. Now came the next act of this fabulous play...

Reaching up, he grabbed the girl's ankle that was closest to him. He heard her moan in despair as he pulled it close, and in the process spread them, moving her across the bed. This time she didn't fight or cry as he moved her into position, although she didn't jump to the chase about it, either. Fiona prepared for the next sexual act, a bit surprised how quick he was to want to go again, but almost relieved that perhaps her quench for the new sensation would be filled. Though she would never let it show, or admit it. Her hands steadied on the bed as she lifted her back from the bed again, not sure if she was going to say something or try to find a way out...

Her legs trembled as he lowered his mouth once again to her entrance, and began the process once more. Kissing, licking near the area itself, then moving more towards her actual muff as he lapped like a hungry dog. She closed her mouth and moaned inside her lips, fighting hard to prevent him from seeing just how well a job he was doing on turning her on. She just hoped she would cum quickly and easily this time, the less she gave into him, the better...Though she knew that in the end she was only fooling herself.

Just when she thought he was going to be somewhat predictable, she realized she was wrong when he began to use his fingers more. This didn't make her realize that his hands must have been away from her feet and able to close her legs, it didn't matter to her except that it felt good...Very good. Too good then what she wanted. Her back arched and she bit her tongue to stifle the cry within. She knew that it didn't matter, that he had already heard her scream just minutes earlier, but it mattered to her...It mattered to her good conscious, that had taken a beating and she had the suspicion it wasn't going to recover.

Fiona's thighs quivered as he accelerated this technique, becoming so intense it was unbelievable. She would have to say that it was the most intense thing in the world not to kick the man away from her cunt, push him away and try to recover from the sensory onslaught. Too much...Too intense...Her head began to roll about and her mouth opened as she panted away like some hungry bitch of a dog. Her chest rose and fell as her whole body twitched in response. She wanted to cum so badly and have this all end. She also knew it would be quite the experience...

Climax mounting, building...Just a little harder, a little longer, and she would come. It tensed, it craved...It ached for the one thing he still didn't deliver, she may have had her first orgasm but she was still a virgin...She needed penetration.

Suddenly, he stopped. At first she thought he was just torturing her again, and damn near hit the man. She stopped herself right before doing so. Then she felt him kiss her thigh, her stomach, and press himself right into her and between her legs. She felt his body hard upon her clit, brushing it as his rough skin pressed against her body. She found it suspicious and strange, but besides that didn't think much of it besides that she was in virtual agony.

Up between her legs, he crawled, and she acquired a fear deep in her heart that would have squelched her arousal had she not already been so pumped up. She turned her head, closed her eyes and dare not make eye contact...He kissed up her body, pecking her tits with lovely little tongue-swirls and nibbles as he did so.

Then the horror dawned on her...He had taken his pants off. She felt the very absence of the woven material on her legs, replaced with warm and rough skin.

He held her legs open, despite her renewed stain to open them. They fought a losing battle to close. Firstly, she was too weak. He held them spread- eagle, bent at the knees and spread open as far as they could go. She felt sick and victimized, vulnerable, her cunt was now exposed to be penetrated and would now be wet, slick and practically begging. He would be met with nothing but the tightness that was her virginity, and that would not last long.

He kissed her face as he hovered above her, and she whimpered, wanted to cry out but was afraid to...Not only of him, but of never getting what her body craved. Even she couldn't stand to teeter on the edge of climax. It was damn near painful.

'Lead me not into temptation...'

Came a voice that fluttered around inside Fiona's skull, a verse from the bible her mother instilled into her. 'But deliver me from evil...'

'...Deliver me from evil...'

'...Evil...'

'God, help me...Forgive me...'

'Forgive me, for I know not what I do...'

"Please...I...I...Stop, I can't...!"

Riccardo lowered himself to her cheek, and kissed the right side of her face, and whispered into her ear.

"Yes, you can...I told you before, my dear...I would be gentle. You are mine."

He positioned himself, up high above her, moving into position. His cock touched her opening, rimming the edge. She caught her own breath in her throat, and braced. It was still a surprise, something told her it never really registered, clicked in her brain until that moment. Denying herself.

"...I don't please...Ah...No! Don't do this...!-"

At that moment, Riccardo became deaf.

"Aaaaahhh!"

A high-pitch cry emitted from the girl, she couldn't help it, she had to do something to react to the sensation of being practically impaled...

Her fingers grabbed the bed-sheets and her knuckles damn near turned white, she bit down and tried to prevent from crying out further. She felt the large head slip past her labia lips and into her opening. At that moment, despite wanting penetration, she wanted it out. Too much, it was too much...Yet it was time, her body wanted it, resolution, fulfillment. She had wanted a large, throbbing and growing organ within her. He came closer as he slowly, carefully, pushed it inside her. Watching her face for pain, he was careful not to cause her more then what was necessary. For a first time, of course it would be rather uncomfortable. It was an unfortunate side-effect, yet it was what had to be. Poor child.

In a slow, fluid motion, he broke her hymen and punctured her virginity. "Breaking her cherry", and destroying her innocence. Though only slightly larger then average (due in part to his deformity) he felt like the largest thing on Earth in her mind. As he pushed inside, she felt as though he would never end as he went deeper, and deeper. She swore she could taste him in the back of her throat for Christ's sake. Despite his care, he had a rough organ, and so she panted and breathed with difficulty, tears coming to her eyes...It was too much...The large man pinning her down, surrounding her with himself, draping over her small and fragile frame with his surprising muscle and build. Power and dominance irradiated from the man, and fear drew into her heart yet again. She had been surprised that there was so much to this man underneath that outfit. It made her realize just how fruitless her situation was.

"Uuuuh! Oh, God...!"

She couldn't help calling out as he impaled her, up to his hilt, into her cunt. He knew now that he was wedged inside her womb, the head itself in the cervix. Now she was his, absolutely and fully...He was inside her. Within her. A cocktail of disgust and self-aware hit her as she lay there, the man buried deep inside her own body. She didn't want the man near her let alone within the very folds of her innermost body. It would have her skin crawl had she not been so aroused and strangely willing. She became suddenly aware of how he felt, rough, large, fulfilling...And realized that it felt good, very good. To think, he hadn't even done anything yet. She heard him sigh longingly and deeply as he finished filling her up. He looked down at her, but she kept her eyes closed and averted. She felt compelled to at least look him in the eye, but fought the urge, strange enough as it was.

His sigh was long and relieved as he settled inside her. Her virgin cunt felt so wonderful as it surrounded his experienced cock. Oh, had it seen many a girl, many a lady, many a slut and many a virgin...Some smaller then her, some larger. Yet nothing was like this. It was like fucking a Goddess, his dream for so long. It was such a joy, so excited, he damn near went off then and there, forgetting to enjoy the experience. In the end he suppressed the urge, concentrating hard as he closed his eyes and tried not to focus on the girl and more on other items of importance, mind wondering off the subject...Instead, he thought of how to please her, and work towards this goal. He would cum for sure and it wouldn't take much, he was hovering on the edge. She would take more work, and longer at that.

Withdrawing, he pulled backwards. Back, back, and back until his head was at her entrance again yet still encased in her folds. Then he slid back inside, and lowered his body down onto her. His face was now beside hers, breathing onto her face and into her nostrils. As she breathed out, he breathed in. And so on and so forth, as they filled one another's lungs, shared one another's heat, breath, energy, soul...At that moment, they were one being. Two lovers conjoining into one infinite person, and to him it was unspeakably beautiful.

To her, it was like a horrid fantasy come to life...A combination of her worst nightmare yet most forbidden desire. It was all happening right now, before her closed eyes, thrusting and pumping deeper and deeper inside her body as he held her down with his sheer mass and strength. She felt like an insignificant creature cradled underneath his form as she was powerless and at his mercy. Like a ying and yang, interlocked and unable to be complete without the other...At that moment, like it or not, they were merged as one.

"Uh!...Uh...Uh!..."

Pressing his pelvis into her clit, he began to thrust into her. He was careful, trying to be gentle on her virgin body as it encountered such an experienced and large organ within it. She made little exasperated moans at each pump, her only other way save for grabbing the sheets that she could express herself. A squishy, wet noise filled the room and it was obvious to her, just as much as him, that she was wet and soaking. The juices from the earlier foreplay lined her canal, and flowed freely out her pussy and down her rear, coated everywhere.

And because he moved so effortlessly, the lubrication was more then enough, she was as wet as it got. Her legs were spread apart and up, him between them and pushed down hard as he slid into her and hit her muff, grinding and pushing down as he sought to stimulate it. He was using long, slow strokes for now. He would wait for her to build up completely, then he would push her over the edge. She desperately tried to close her legs, not out of disgust, but out of sheer over-stimulation. Like an itch you couldn't reach, only she really didn't want the sensation to stop...she just wasn't able to bear so much at one time.

She could feel the rough, large cock pumping into her relentlessly. Not stopping, at this point he truly was unstoppable. As she tried to close her legs out of intolerance, she once again found she didn't have the will nor the strength. She laid her head back and opened her mouth, a sick feeling of passion brewing in her stomach as he fucked her in a calculated way. A little but of bile rose in her throat, but it settled back down surprisingly quickly as she swallowed. She just tried to look away...She didn't want to see the image of her father above her...

But God, could she ever feel it...Like a flower, it bloomed in her body. Unveiling and opening up, it was affection.

He leaned down and kissed her open mouth passionately, darting his tongue in and out like a sinister snake every time he rocked forward. Every time he thrust in, he was careful to rub up against her clit. This was how she would cum; fucking her in the cunt might satisfy him but it wouldn't pay off in the end. If she had an orgasm, her body and soul would be more likely to accept him and his seed. She would be more likely to get pregnant, almost ensure it when done on her cycle. So close, he had to read her well.

Warmth circulated throughout his body like warm water being pumped through his veins. It gravitated towards his pelvis as an absolute feeling of "love" filled him, if he was truly able to feel such a thing. Like her, he felt affection and desire for his partner...Overwhelmingly so. His breathing and heart rate accelerated as he struggled to keep control. His chest pressed down into hers, breath hitting her neck and face as he kissed her, and now began to pant into her ear, emitting the first real noise besides simple words since he began. He looked into her face, noticing her awash with sweat and flushing rapidly. On cue, he began thrusting more rapidly, hitting into her and burrying himself into her with each thrust and pressing into her. She cried out a little, not in pain but from simply being overwhelmed. Her body trembled, toes quivering and muscles twitching.

It dawned on Fiona that the same sensation was fast approaching. She felt no shame, instead anticipated it and wished it would come as soon as possible. The bed rocked and squeaked as he pumped into her at a rhythmic, powerful fashion that sent her body rocking and jiggling every time. Noises filled the room from the squishing sounds of him sliding inside her, and the pants and moans of the girl. Riccardo was practically silent save for his heavy breathing, like some dark and powerful harvester of Earthly delights. The sensation built and built little by little as he continued to thrust into her, filling her to capacity and quickening his pace with nearly every one. And during it all she had the feeling that he was like a machine; that he could never stop. Technically that wasn't true, but somehow she felt the opposite. Logic didn't factor in at that point and it didn't matter at that moment. All that mattered was the man above her and her own approaching climax. Only the two of them and the sensations involved.

Laying there, when she realized she was helpless and hopeless to escape, when she felt as though he was unstoppable and there really was no escape, nowhere to run...That was when she came.

As her mind focused on that simple fact, his raging, unstopping organ plunging into her without fail; she reached her massive peak. Her legs stretched out and toes curled, and her arm flexed as the reached around his back and hugged him closer to her body. She felt the muscles spasm in her vagina, clasping around his cock and drawing it into her body even further as it demanded insemination despite her conscious desire not to. Her body sincerely disagreed. The sensation pulsed throughout her lower regions, spreading throughout her body as it tingled and pulsed. It was Heaven upon this Earth, and wanted to draw from it what she could. Had her legs had the power she would have wrapped around his waist and pushed him inside to increase the sensation. Her clit felt like it was on fire, her body hot and blushing.

When she came, feeling her squeeze him inside and anticipating it from the look on her face, he came as well. He thrust into her as hard as he could as he pressed up into and against her, pelvis hitting her clit as it spasmed out of control and heighened her orgasm. He let himself go, focusing intently on her and how beautifully and passionately they fucked, and his hips bucked forward as he shot his load and came inside her cervix. Spilling out inside her and into her womb. She felt the warm sensation of his fluids fill up inside her, and it filled her with the combination of relaxing, soothing comfort, and abhorrent disgust that made her dizzy.

And as she felt herself peak her mountain of ecstasy, she let fly a moan that rivaled the one previous. This orgasm was far more intense; having been the second in a series. It was long and loud, it sounded tired, it sounded beaten. Like a tired animal bested by it's master, sent into submission. Her body was his, now. And halfway through her own cry, Riccardo joined in as he ejaculated. His own cry was more of that of relief then of victory, it was satisfaction, he gasped, shuddered and moaned along with her, and just like in bodies their cried intertwined in the night. She squeezed him tight as tears leaked from her eyes and she kept moaning to relieve herself from the absolute force of the sensation as it still rocketed through her body in waves, tensing and squeezing his own organ within her. He relaxed his body on top of her, yet did not pull out or roll off quite yet.

Putting some weight on his elbows, he sighed heavily and blew the air across her fevered face; looking at her most angelic of features as he studied her beauty through hazy and tired eyes. He hadn't fucked a woman like that in what seemed like ages, and his age wasn't on his side. Yet he thought he had done pretty well. He kissed her cheek slowly and lovingly, and then proceeded to kiss her closed eyelids, inhaling her scent, and sighed in a satisfied manner.

"Oh, Fiona..."

He could just feel her Azoth coursing through his body, alive with sensation and feeling. It magnified the pleasure and made his heart soar with emotion. It kept him from being absolutely depleted and falling asleep right away. Even now he was still wedged inside her body, cock pulsing still from the experience. He didn't want to leave, she just felt too warm, inviting, comforting to his cracked and weathered body. He may have filled her, but she filled him with her soul and life. Reunited him with his own Azoth and eternal soul and made him feel like a healthy young man with purpose in his life.

Azoth...Azoth...How he craved it. How he missed how it felt to come from a woman.

Warmth, pulsing heat brewed within the girl as she cooled his fire. Yet he was far and away not cold or chilled in any way. He was sweating from head to toe; and as he felt her skin he realized so was she. He ran his hand down her arm and pulled off the sticky, wet liquid and moved it between his fingers. Her complexion was still flushed, her body racked with continuous arousal. Oh yes, he could get used to this.

As he gazed into her face, and pondered their future together, he felt an intense happiness inside of him. Brewing and growing from his core. It was a sensation he wasn't used to, a combination of affection and joy. Like a child that just opened his presents on Christmas morning, and had all day to look forward to playing with them. And indeed this was his new toy, and he planned to play with her as long as he had every desire to do so. Instead of falling asleep with his toy in his arms, however, he sought to try and play with it just a little bit longer...

They were both surprised, but Riccardo was more then ever. Already he found himself hardening inside the woman. Even when he was a younger man he was unable to go minutes later. He supposed the young lady's Azoth was even more powerful and restoring then what even he knew.

Fiona's eyes slowly fluttered open as she felt his raging organ inside her become erect, and her fingers twisted and gnarled as they sunk into his back muscles. He touched his forehead to hers, and smiled devilishly. Then he slowly began to rock back and froward once again, all the while his dark blue eyes locked with her lighter ones. And for whatever reason, she could not look away...

This time he had no plan, just to rock into her body again and again; get a feel for her instead of focusing on what worked. She panted and moaned again underneath him, fingernails clawing into his flesh, and yet it never bothered or stopped him. Like before he touched her clit with each thrust as he smacked her with his pelvis with every thrust. She could feel pleasure instantly return to that particular region, swelling and burning, causing her cunt to hunger and crave him as he pummeled her with his mass. Still he looked into her eyes, still she looked back.

Riccardo got an idea in his head, a position he tried with her mother the very first time he fucked her. He wanted to see her glistening in the moonlight, he wanted to find her G-spot and insure one final orgasm before the night was gone. His arms transferred from holding him up above her, to underneath her back as they slid between her skin and the bed. She was light and tired, and never fought as he lifted her up to her knees, and he held her as he knelt on the bed, arms around her as her arms still rested on his back. They were looser then before, but they remained, partially because she was afraid to remove them.

His knees knelt and folded underneath his body as he held her up, and her knees folded and did the same. He thrust upward as he closed his arms about her tighter, all the while more pulling towards himself in able to stimulate that spot he knew so very well while stimulating her clit all the while. He could feel her body tensing up once more as he sensed her approaching orgasm; he had already come to know her well. She grabbed him tighter and her legs clamped tighter as they sought some strength in the more upright postion. Closer, closer, he could feel her more then he could feel even himself...

As they rocketed toward another climax; they shared a view. Like the twin snakes that twisted about the cane in their family crest, they were became one another, the cane like Azoth that they both shared. He saw himself through his own eyes, and she could see through his own...It lasted for only a split second, but it was enough to drive them both over the edge.

Squeezing one another tight, they blinked, their normal vision returning. He thrust into her a few more times; hard, seeking to finish her and did so very effectively. Her toes curled on the bed sheets behind him as she gasped and moaned, cumming like mad for the last time that night. She cried nobody's name in particular, but still sent Riccardo into an absolute satisfaction as she shook and pushed into her with amazing force and came. Again she felt the warm gush of semen flood her body, again she felt a sickness pervade her system. Riccardo himself sighed from relief and panted heavily, holding and hugging her tight.

He would never let go...She was his.

She would never get away, never would, never could...

No; this was perfect, he was happy...And he could tell, she was, too...Maybe she wouldn't think it or say it...But she would feel it, despite her denial. He would never let her get away.

Exasperated, Fiona fell from grace as his grip loosened and fell to the bed, limp organ still inside her body. He followed suite, but instead gently laid down next to her. She had been deflowered, desecrated, off of her pedestal and pure no longer. Like Lucifer stripped of his feathery wings and sent to reign in hell; she had become the official Lady of the castle and had inherited her own little world, given dominion over a proverbial kingdom in defiance of God. Defiant because it spat in his face with it's clone creations and violent, murderous, and incestuous ways. As far as Fiona was concerned, she had just had sex with the Devil, or in the very least one of his demon henchmen. She looked still for a tail and pointy horns, could almost feel his leathery wings draped over her as he coveted his lover...

She fell backwards on the bed, head hitting the pillow and just barely missing the headboard. When he followed suite, because he was joined inside her still, he fell down with his body entwined with hers. He moaned loudly as he moved from on top of her, to standing again onto his knees between her legs. Slowly, he pulled out of her, not particularly wanting to leave her sweet and wholesome body, but knowing he had to. He surprised her with his next action, he grabbed her ankles and pulled them up towards the ceiling, bending her at the waist and holding her upwards.

Her eyes widened a little as she watched him tilt her up, and realized now what he was doing. He was trying to rush his semen towards her uterus, making sure nothing escape. She didn't fight...What was the point? He had already won...

Finally; his energy sapped and reserves depleted, he collapsed next to the young Lady. A million tired thoughts raced through his head, all positive, as he sank and settled down into a position on his side. He was never so tired, so exhausted, and needing of his first real good night's sleep. He forgot completely of his ailment, and for the first real time, it did not concern him that he would wake up in a few hours, tired as always. For whatever reason, it did not worry nor bother him.

Sweaty, tired, drained, he lay there and carefully wrapped his arms about her. He pulled her tight, chest pressing into her back as her body went along for the ride and let him tug her into his grasp. His arms lay around her stomach and chest, encircled around his grand possesion. He had worked so hard for that moment, and it had already come and past...Now was the time he enjoyed the fruits of his labor. Just as God rested after creating the world, so did he as he had finished his first attempt at creating his heir. As far as he was concerned, it was a long time coming. He lay there, chest rising and falling against her back. He looked up to see the full moon in the cracked window, noticing but not caring. He barely kept his eyes open long enough to close them on his own accord, eyes fluttering shut as his drained body forced him asleep. Satisfied, satiated, feeling the closest thing to complete he ever had in his life.

Fiona lay there. Her eyes may have been wide open had she not been drunk, exhausted, and successfully wooed into bed. Now they fluttered shut. She struggled to keep them open, and then she questioned to herself why. She wasn't getting away...She couldn't, and even if she could, why? She was tired, and he felt so warm in the chilly night air. Surprisingly enough, she found herself backing up into his grasp and laying there. He responded by tightening his grip a little, and making a lovely little sigh that was obviously one of fulfilment. Her arms lay loose at her sides and on the bed, not seeking to hold him back. She felt comfortable, secure, soothed...And she hated it. Hated him. Hated herself for being so easily fooled and lulled into this pervert's bed.

A torrent of emotions and thoughts rampaged throughout the woman's head, and she wasn't sure what to do. What to say. How to even react. Everything she thought had a contradiction, had a reason why or why not. In the end, she just laid there, taking the easy way out. She relaxed in her forceful lover's arms, wanting to leave and yet knowing that she could not. Tears leaked from her eyes under her lids, but she was too tired to piece together a coherent thought or fly into a sobbing fit. Too defeated, and her whole body, her cunt especially, was still throbbing from what had just happened...Something she still couldn't believe...

The fact of the matter was she didn't want to get up, didn't want to leave. Though her mind may have been going a mile a minute, her body was stretched and pushed to the limit, and it was ready to get some real rest. While he fucked her, she couldn't help but feel affection towards a man pleasuring her so carefully and gracefully. And in shame, she realized she didn't want to be anywhere else but in bed with him, asleep in his arms.

At first sleep wasn't even a thought to her. In her mind, there was just no way she could ever fall asleep next to that monster. Yet as the seconds crawled by, the grandfather clock ticked loudly in the now eerily quiet night, she found her eyelids fluttering shut, and knew it was inevitable. Her thoughts slowed and turned into more dreams then rational conclusions, and she heard him breathe...Not just heard, but felt. His chest rising and falling behind her, his breath hitting the back of her bare neck on intervals. It was like an unlikely lullaby. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she questioned it no more that night.

Just like in legends of old, the dragon had stolen away with it's virgin maiden.