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"I am sorry Kayla?" you ask "what do you mean" I ... I .. I wondered Sir if I could perhaps do something for you?" I tentatively ask."I am sure there are a lot of things you could do for me Slavegirl, what are you saying girl .. speak!" you demand."Could I pleasure you Sir? With my mouth?"You look hard at me, scrutinising my face, thinking before you answer ... "Yes, Kayla, ok you may, Carry on"I remove my clothing and kneel at your feet. You have only loose trousers on so gently I remove them and lean forward to start my ritual worship of your cock. As the tip of my tongue touches the head of your cock I feel it twitch, start to harden. "Mmmmm" you moan quietlyEncouraged I slowly swirl my tongue around, flicking the end before licking from your balls to the tip of your cock again in one long, continuous stroke."Aaaaah" you say "that's nice Kayla"I do the same again ... then lick slowly back down to your balls, playing with them for a moment, sucking them gently, first one, then the. Die pulsierendenBewegungen des Gef??es, auf das ich gebannt starrte, wurden immer st?rker.Pl?tzlich gab es einen lauten Knall und das Beh?ltnis zerbrach. Es stiegschwarzer Rauch auf, der sich langsam lichtete und eine gro?e, m?nnlicheGestalt freigab. Diese war in einen schwarzen Anzug gekleidet. Sie hattepechschwarze Haare und einen schwarzen Schnurrbart. Eine so widerliche,unsympathische Person hatte ich noch nie gesehen. Sie lachte laut in einem diabolischen Tonfall und sagte, "Endlich bin ichdank deiner Hilfe wieder frei. Ich werde die Macht in deinem Land und dannauf der ganzen Welt an mich rei?en und Du wirst mir dabei zu Diensten sein" Du bist also wirklich ein Zauberer?" fragte ich ihn."Willst du eine kleine Kostprobe meines K?nnens?"Ich nickte und er begann Worte in einer unverst?nlichen Sprache zu murmelnund zeigte dabei mit dem Finger auf meinen Kater. Als er fertig war stiegweisser Rauch auf und mein Haustier hatte sich in eine z?ngelndePythonschlange verwandelt. "Komm.
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‘Oh Harold.’ * The trees clawed at the sky like a skeleton’s hands, they tore holes in the sunset until only the night remained. Half an hour later, as if overcome by the syrupy blackness, the crime-scene lights fizzed and went out. Constable Oakman swallowed hard, startled by his descent into impenetrable night. Slowly his eyes adjusted. He made out the grey and silver shapes of trees, the subtle brush-strokes of moonlight providing the only detail on a black canvas. Mark Oakman had checked the crime-scene log. It confirmed that everyone who had entered had also left. He was alone. Alone in the presence of the dead. It was impossible to forget that. Mark had not seen a corpse until two months ago when, during the first days of police training, he had visited a mortuary. An elderly man with unidentifiable yellow stains on his apron had displayed his parade of cadavers. He ticked off the cause of death in each instance, pointing out claw-hammer marks in one man’s skull, then a man.

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