Never: an erotic retelling of Peter Pan (26 page)

Both captor and captive had stood transfixed, watching the shy young girl approach.  A dainty tinkling Xavion had recognised as Tchaikovsky's 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy' played faintly in the background, and in the air there drifted a powdery scent he could only describe as
pink
.

With an artifice Xavion could hardly believe possible, Belle had transformed herself from an adult woman into a pre-pubescent angel, complete with blonde curls, huge blue eyes and a teddy clutched under her arm. 

It had definitely been Belle.  Xavion had guarded her often enough on outings to the mainland to be sure of that, but the disguise had been so perfect, her size so precise for the play that the fisherman had thought himself confronted by a ten year old girl. 

Her breasts had been strapped and hidden beneath a demure gingham frock, her nails were short and free of colour, and on her small feet she wore black, patent-leather shoes that made no sound as she approached.  To Xavion, for that brief moment, she ceased being a woman, and became a child.

Which made his next reaction to her all the more inexplicable.  A outflowing of emotion, like a blow to the head, dazed him, and his hold on the fisherman's arm slackened. 

Part of him wanted step between them, to protect her, to kill anyone that so much as breathed on a single perfect curl.  And yet with that was an equally fierce, almost blinding desire to take her himself, sexually, violently.

Gritting his teeth, he called on every discipline of his training to remain still - to obey his orders.

At a gesture from Belle, he released her victim's arm and stepped back a pace as she led the embarrassed fisherman to the small, lace-clad bed, seating him on its edge. 

His hands still covered his genitals but with some coaxing and fluttering of eyelashes she managed to push them aside and crawl onto his lap.  There, she rested her bright blonde curls on his chest and rocked back and forth, clutching the teddy. 

Xavion watched, totally absorbed, as the coarse fisherman wrapped his arms gently around Belle and began rocking in her rhythm, his cheek against her silky hair, tears slipping out from under his closed eyelids. 

The tender scene went on for some minutes before Xavion noticed Belle's comfort rocking had slowed to a tight grind, her tiny bottom massaging her victim's penis, with predictable results. 

The fisherman's eyes opened, clouded with a combination of guilt and surprise. 

Again Xavion felt the alien emotion surge inside himself.  His hands balled into fists at his sides to keep them from the fisherman's throat as Belle slid off his lap and turned to stare at the intrusion to their paternal intimacy. 

Eyes wide with wonder, she stretched out a tiny hand, only to pause it near the narrow sausage of flesh, as though unsure of its purpose.  Then she touched it, grasping it as a child would, smiling at his gasped breath.  Giggling, she twisted it gently, and pumped it up and down a few times.  Not many before it spurted over her arm and dress.

Pulling back, she glanced at him in consternation before touching the sticky liquid on her bodice, rubbing the texture between her small fingers then raising them to her lips.

"
No
," he gasped, but she was already licking those fingers, laughing, and before he had the chance to stop her, bending down to lick the top of his flaccid penis.  "Mary, mother of Jesus," the fisherman groaned, but she was all dancing fingers, small quick tongue and girlish giggles, pushing him backwards onto the bed and straddling his legs with her thin shanks as she licked up the spilt fluid.

"Stop.  You have to stop.  You're just a wee girl," he pleaded, but he made no move against her.  He just lay there, one arm thrown over his eyes, pleading softly to himself.  "A wee bit of a girl.  You've got to stop."

But she didn't stop and as Xavion watched, the fisherman achieved another reluctant erection.  Belle paused when she had him hard again and reached under the edge of the bed, withdrawing a small pistol.  She leant over and pressed it into his hand.

Xavion was galvanised into action then, stepping quickly to her side, but she held out a hand to stop him and by accident or design, it landed against the erection straining the front of his stiff, duty uniform. 

He froze, his hand over his own gun as she raised her haunches and somehow managed to engulf her victim's penis inside herself.  She appeared too small, and Xavion was sure his eyes were as wide as those of the fisherman who'd dropped his arm to stare at her.

"Just like Mummies and Daddies," she whispered in a voice so pure, so innocent, Xavion would have sworn it could only have passed the lips of a real child.

The fisherman tightened his grip on the small pistol, prompting Xavion to withdraw his Luger, but Belle's small hand, still covering his erection, pressed warningly against him. 

Was the pistol not loaded?  That must be it.  Xavion slid his gun back into it's holster and watched as her widely spread hips rose and fell - the monstrous vision of a child fucking a man. 

It burned Xavion, as did her tiny hand pressing against his erection with each rhythmic movement.  He ached to plunge it into her, knowing she was too small even for the fisherman's pathetic worm.  It would tear her apart, and yet he wanted to so desperately that his reason was clouded, his duty completely forgotten.  His free hand came up to cover hers, grinding it against his pants. 

The fisherman, sobbing, raised the tiny pistol to his mouth.

"Am I a good little girl?" she asked earnestly, "Will you be my Daddy?"

His eyes closed, squeezing fat tears out from under their lids as his hips bucked upwards, then lay still.  Belle, having clung on with her knees, now watched the gun in his mouth with such avid absorption that she appeared unaware of Xavion continuing to manipulate her hand against his straining erection.

"Daddy?" she whispered, the child-voice still pure despite the tension in her body and the fever in her eyes.  "Will I suck it again?"

The ugly face contorted and there was a last sob choked on the barrel of the gun before it exploded, the splatter of blood and brains echoing Xavion's own explosion as he spurted against Belle's tiny palm.

Then the room was still. 

Xavion's heard his harsh breathing and felt the spread of warm stickiness at his abdomen, but his mind was slow to clear through the pleasure haze - to recall his duty. 

Belle. 

By the time he had, she'd already wrenched her hand away from his pants, thrown the blonde wig carelessly over the missing skull of the fisherman and was striding towards the door. 

Xavion watched, shell-shocked despite his own corpse littered past, as she loosened the band securing her shoulder-length hair and shook it free.  It had been dyed jet-black and as Xavion watched, the dark strands lifted and swirled around the shoulders of her pretty child's frock.  It looked incongruous, like a veil of mourning on an angel.

Xavion knew he should move, should say something - make some explanation for his unacceptable conduct.  But he was trapped in a place he'd never been before - a place where emotions dictated actions and unquestioning obedience no longer existed. 

At the door she stopped and turned back, but still Xavion couldn't mobilise himself to speak.  The outcome of her 'game' had been so unexpected.  So perverse.  So... erotic.

She pinned him with narrowed steely eyes that were far removed from the flutter of Wedgwood blue that had entrapped the fisherman.

"Clean it up, " she said, and the shock of hearing her normal, husky contralto helped draw Xavion out of his preoccupation. 

"Immediately," he said, and glanced across at the corpse to be disposed of.

"Wait." 

He looked back to find her gazing at the stained front of his trousers. 

"Strip." 

Sick tension gripped his stomach - fascination and the fear.  Unbuckling his holster and dropping it onto the bed beside the hapless fisherman's feet, he'd quickly divested himself of his clothing to stand naked before her for the first time.

"Interesting."

Adrenalin coursed through him, making him tremble under her curious gaze.  Would she touch him?  Would she kill him?   

"But too big," she said, gesturing at the turgid erection that swayed almost level with her eyes, an achingly distant ten feet away.

Xavion wanted to stride over and -    

"Still...  Get rid of this mess and ready yourself," she instructed.  "I may decide to call for you."   

He took a deep breath and bowed, the blood rushing to his head, dizzying him further.  "At your command," he'd said, and wasn't surprised to find her gone when he'd lifted his head.

In a daze of pounding lust he'd delegated the clean up and prepared himself for her summons.  But the call had never come - not that day, nor in the subsequent two months. 

He'd told himself it was of no consequence, that his duty was to Pietre, but Belle haunted him.  No amount of sexual activity could obliterate the memory of her depravity.  And even Wendee, voracious temptress that she was, couldn't distract him entirely.