“See here?” said Elena “This is The King in Yellow as only we can view it. Where is the other”? The hall was a stark and brutal space, bare stone walls and stone flags lit by high windows that cast heavy shadows and pools of cold light. “We daren’t dream of it” he said, simply. No-one moved or breathed. Then she had each of the women draw a straw. “I only care that you kill me,” she gasped. Her fingers brushed against her aching nipple and her eyes closed. She pulled her cheeks open with brutal fingers and spat at the puckered bud of her arse then licked at it deeply, slowly and wetly. Elena nodded eagerly and went to the fireplace, returning with four spills. His voice trailed off, and he looked back to the altar. He left in great good humour. “Since his release we had talked many times about his triumph with Marie-Claude, while we dallied together with willing victims – willing, but doomed to live”.
