Chapter 5

“At the time of Rosa’s birth,” Nick began the next installment of his Tales, “further encroachments of the Spanish continued, with more and more success against my northern friends. Somehow, probably from the tapping of Spanish warrior from my stable of whores combined with profitable trade, my little empire sustained. But that became less appealing for me and the native people, dealing with enslavers and murderers and condescenders, in some way the latter being the worst of it because it expressed the attitude of the Europeans that the natives were less human, like children, even the oldest and wisest.

“By the time Rosa reached maturity, she became the greatest opponent to these conquerors. Her rebelliousness in fact probably staved off the usual attraction towards me of the adolescent angel. She took the other path, countering the principals of the father, which, if not biological, has always been my practical role for my growing angels.”

“We have to do something!” Rosa weeps. Her friend and her first lover has been killed. With Rosa, precocious in both mind and body, the young man, at least five years her senior, a warrior of fearsome skill equaling a fearsome temper, who had escaped the slaughter of his fellow warriors to regroup within the sanctuary of Nick’s little empire before returning to fight against the next incursion, had found her to be an eager trainee of his skills and needy for his body and his loving despite having experienced her menses only a month or so before their meeting.

“All the tactics that you both figured out, you more than him if I remember,” Nick points out, “of stealth and ambush only enflamed the Spanish. Made them think the boy’s people even less human and more monsters, not to be feared but to be destroyed.”

“I feel guilty enough, Grandfather,” Rosa sniffles. “And he was not a boy.”

“To me he was. And I am not blaming you for his death. Except for the ramifications, he did succeed in lasting longer and killing more of the enemy. There’s some victory in that I suppose.”

“So you see some success?”

“I see it as a lesson. Stealth has its benefits. But it needs to be complete.”

“What do you mean?”

“It needs to be invisible even after the kill has been made.”

“An assassin.”

“I have always wanted one of my angels to be. I met my fellow eternal wanderer’s assassin. She was a formidable warrior in all ways. Not to mention one of my favorite lovers, if not my most favorite.”

“Then she couldn’t have been completely cruel.”

“No. She may have been as skilled as any lover, but the heart had to be there.”

“But an assassin...”

“Creates a cold death. No mano e mano battle matching aggression with defense. No enemy standing against enemy, with God on both sides. It would have to be a necessary murder in your heart. Because I know how large your heart is. You are my most compassionate angel.”

“Then why me?”

“Because you are the stealthiest. And I know you would take care with your choices. In the end, no one could command you to assassinate someone. It would always be you choosing your victims.”

Rosa nods. “I would not hold back against any of these Spanish destroyers.”

Though agreeing, furthering his choice in her, Nick reminds her, “Your grandfather was one of them.”

“He never was,” Rosa disagrees. “And how many would consider us the better people as he did?”

“True,” Nick responds. He then tells her, “You need to hone your skills and develop more of them. You need to be the greatest tracker, the most silent hunter, and the most skilled warrior. You need to kill with one silent blow in such a way as to be invisible until your victim feels the pain of his death. And you need to find your way there, doing that, so that no one knows.”

“You’re through with these monsters?” Rosa asks hopefully.

“They have never been my friends. I am of the wrong color and presumably of the wrong religion. But I will always protect our people the best I can, which, unfortunately, will probably never be enough. Trading with the enemy keeps a buffer, but it will dissolve. Not with the Spanish as much as with the Portuguese.”

“They’re coming?”

“From the east,” Nick nods. “I believe you will find targets amongst them.”

“And those of my people who try to gain favor by becoming traitor to their own.”

“They will find it a bad choice, as the ones who have become dogs of the Spanish will find. Will they be easier deaths?” It had been a small tribe of natives who had aligned themselves with the Spanish as guides and stealthy rangers who had brought the Spanish troops to the place of slaughter for her lover and his band.

“Betrayal is worse than condescending prejudice,” she growled quietly. “They will be my first victims.”

“But only when you’re ready.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

For the first time in a while, she hugs him.

Not only does she find the best of her people to train her, both men and women since Nick’s little empire finds no bias in gender for chosen tasks, even with men doing what had always been female work amongst these people, like cooking and sewing, though the men who chose such tasks tend to be fey, she also finds her lovers in them. They become a group unto themselves, trackers and hunters and warriors, best at what they bring but learning, like her, the other abilities.

Their love for each other becomes orgiastic, on a small scale because there are only six of them, and only four participate sexually together. Rosa does not join them. She prefers the intimacy of a single partner. Her intense compassion needs that focus. She is both intensely compassionate and intensely angry, the makings of the ultimate revolutionary. Love of her people. Hatred of the other.

Of the other five, only the one who both cooks and sews for them does not share her bed at any time, though they are probably closest in friendship. He exemplifies the fey man taking on women’s work. And he alone has only one gender preference sexually, his own of course. The two other men, a hunter and a tracker, accept his presence in the orgies, most often getting fucked by him while fucking one of the women. Few times does he get fucked, and the men never suck him. The women do, and seem to enjoy his long narrow dick that they can fit into their mouths and even their throats easier than the thicker cocks of the other men. These two women warriors have great skills at sucking, and great enthusiasm, as they have for pretty much everything they do.

Their first task calls for more deaths than almost any that will follow. Instead of the others killing at the periphery, guards who might get in the way of Rosa assassinating her target, they intend the murder of a band of traitors. All of them must kill, including their fey comrade, in order to destroy every one of them without any alarm being given or any of the enemy escaping.

As in any task that follows, they hide and watch the traitorous men. They witness the enemy’s habits and vulnerabilities. They figure out the most dangerous targets for the three women warriors. They wait patiently to strike. Unlike animal predators, hunger does not hurry them. And, of course, prey will not be devoured.

Finally ready, Rosa and the women warriors walk boldly into the camp at sunset, the fey cook accompanying them. The guard stops them. Rosa, using a skill taught to her by her grandmother, presents a fawning seductress, a whore whose mission is to make a man feel like a better man than he is. She has taught her comrades this skill.

“The Spanish captain has sent us as your reward,” Rosa explains, using a slightly different patois, but a familiar one for this tribe.

The guard smiles, taken in by Rosa’s beauty and sensuality. But he frowns at the man with them.

“He is here to make sure none of your men get too enthusiastic,” Rosa explains.

The guard laughs, looking at the man who exudes weakness.

“Or you could distract me,” Rosa’s friend purrs, touching the guard’s face which the guard slaps away, though he retains his amusement.

“We have libations as well,” Rosa continues, showing a wine bottle, “to add to your reward.”

The guard shouts a name, different choice than an alarm, and the oldest of this band, and their most formidable warrior, appears, followed by a couple others.

“It seems the Spanish have finally decided to give us real thanks,” the guard explains.

“You can have us for the night,” Rosa confirms, slinking towards their leader. “Then we must return to our duties to our Spanish masters.”

“Show me that bottle,” the man demands rudely. She hands it to him. “I have seen the captain pour this amongst his officers. Never offered it to me.”

“He realizes some show of affection will encourage your loyalty which has proven a boon to him and his men.”

The man contemplates this a moment and nods. “About time. Come.”

“What about me?” asks the guard.

“They will be here the night. You can join us when you are replaced this night.”

The guard sighs but agrees, watching the women slink away.

“You sure you do not wish my company?” asks Rosa’s fey friend, pawing at the man’s groin, which gets quickly slapped away.

“Go watch after your women,” the guard smirks.

The camp sits at a clearing beside a wide stream. The water to one side and the thick foliage surrounding the others allows the one guard to be able to keep a vigil, with only one path seeming to be needed guarding.

Led to a quiet campfire where six men sit, leisurely digesting their recent meal, Rosa sees the slow thought processes of their leader. “My ladies enjoy more than one lover at a time,” she suggests. “They enjoy as many holes filled as possible.”

“They do not wish privacy?”

“No. Why should they? Why would you? You can enjoy watching while getting to feel what your men feel.”

“Drink,” he orders her.

“You do not trust this wine?”

“No.”

Shrugging, Rosa drinks a mouthful, showing the full mouth to him before swallowing. He does not know the drugs will not affect her, except for the aphrodisiac from Nick’s essence that speeds the process of the sedatives. He immediately grabs the bottle from her and drinks, smacking his lips afterwards. “Good,” he proclaims, and calls his closest man to take it. Already Rosa’s comrades have lured three men each beside them. This leaves two men unattended. One more a boy than a man. The other, sitting beside the boy, has his eyes on Rosa’s fey friend. Rosa’s friend of course sits beside that man. “Here,” he says, pulling out another bottle from his sack and handing it to the man uncomfortable about his attraction.

Leaning forward, Rosa’s friend asks the boy, “What’s your story?”

“I’m ... his son,” the boy gestures to the leader.

“Not by choice,” the fey man notices.

“I...”

“We have all reached that time of rebellion,” the man beside Rosa’s comrade comments. “He will learn, like we all have, there’s no place for it.”

“Will I?” the boy grumbles, grabbing the battle from the older man and drinking, his face revealing the bitterness of the flavor, and that his taste buds have not become accustomed to it. Nevertheless, he takes another drink.

“Hey,” says a man near him. “Don’t be greedy.” The boy hands him the bottle.

Already, as if choreographed, the three women shed their tops, revealing their young breasts, Rosa’s the largest, but no less firm. Hands caress men’s loins and bring hands to caress their breasts. Skirts remain, the leather hiding tools of death. Because of it, they dance away from hands seeking their sexual center. They continue playing until all the men have drank. Then they strike. Their comrades rush from the seemingly impervious barrier to help. The alarm, seeing their leader’s throat being the first to be cut is only seen by one of them, and the shock gives enough pause to cause no attempt at defense. Rosa’s fey friend dispatches the man.

“Don’t kill the boy,” the Rosa’s friend tells the others while showing the knife to the boy. “You’ll find us swifter than you if you attempt escape,” he explains.

“Who are you?” the youngster asks.

“Friends of the man your little group of traitors caused to be killed,” Rosa explains bitterly, “along with his band of rebels.”

The young man spat. “I wanted nothing to do with that. My father was nothing but a selfish coward. He even betrayed my mother, giving her to the Spaniards as a whore. But she fought it, getting herself killed. Did he care? No. He said she deserved it in her foolishness. And what did he get? A little extra food, and little bit of protection. Little good that did him.”

“And he left you to this man,” Rosa’s gay friend comments.

“My ... teacher,” the young man scowls. “I know what he wanted of me.”

“But he didn’t get it?”

“Not yet. And he never would. I would have cut off his balls.”

“You know I’m like him.”

“Would you try to fuck me?”

“Not if you weren’t willing, which you obviously are not.”

They nod. More nods amongst Rosa and her band. “Would you be willing to come with us?” Rosa asks.

“Where else would I go?” he responds, rising before sitting back down. “What did you put in the wine?”

“You’ll be fine,” Rosa smiles, watching him pass out. She drapes him over her shoulder despite him being inches taller than her. “Let’s go,” she commands, and they disappear into the jungle.

Rosa finds an avid student in the young man. In all things, including sexually. He becomes closest to her than her comrades. He does not participate in the orgies. Only the women warriors join them in bed occasionally. In order to spare jealousy, which does arrive because of the greater attention Rosa pays to the young man, Rosa visits the bed of her bisexual lovers singly while her student either sleeps alone or a warrior joins him. Preferring Rosa over them, he’s ambivalent about either situation. He enjoys the other women, but they actually enjoy him more. And the jealousy evaporates more because he proves himself worthy of Rosa’s band than his worthiness as a sexual plaything.

Nearly a year after the first task of her little group, Rosa sits with Nick. Surprisingly, Rosa’s new favorite companion also sits with them.

“The choice between slaughter and enslavement is an easy one I would think,” Nick says. He stops her words before she speaks them. “My people are not like you. They cannot defend themselves against greater weaponry. And the more they do, the more will die.”

“So far, it’s just missionaries and mercenaries,” Rosa points out.

“Not for long. And the mercenaries are numerous and highly skilled.”

“Not that numerous and not that skilled,” Rosa argues.

“Enough to report back hostility rather than submission when the larger troops arrive. Even you cannot kill all of them.”

The young man asks, “If these missionaries succeed, changing our beliefs to theirs?”

“Our people will be sheep, but to be shorn and not slaughtered.”

“Maybe given some peace?”

“Yes.”

“But at what price?” asks Rosa. “To be lowly animals to these supposedly enlightened Europeans?”

“Despite what they think, we are not animals, Rosa. And we would survive.”

“Why would you agree with Grandfather? Are you more like your father than I thought?”

“Don’t be cruel, Rosa,” Nick chastises her. “He’s just being remarkably sensible.”

Rosa chuckles. “He can be quite remarkable.”

“Thanks,” the young man blushes. “I hate what my father did, betraying your friend. Betraying our people. But, in the end, what choice do our people have? And to seem like sheep, the wolves amongst us can better survive.”

“What do you mean?” Rosa asks this precocious young man.

“There are two kinds of conquerors,” the young man explains. “Those that believe their way is the better way, and those that seek destruction. These latter crave what few of us could ever want. They thirst for blood and for vanquishing.”

“You mean rape.”

“Yes.”

“And if we act like sheep, they cannot be sated.”

“They will be sated.”

Rosa nods. “They will be our targets.”

“Good,” says Nick.

“And we will never be sheep,” Rosa adds. “Any of those who choose to be with me.”

“I would expect nothing less of my angel,” Nick smiles.

After leaving Nick’s little hut, Rosa pulls her lover into an embrace and kiss. “Who would have thought that rebellious young man could be wise beyond his years?” she murmurs.

“My teacher may have been desirous of me,” he replies, “and made my skin crawl because of it, but he was also remarkably intelligent. Unfortunately in a way that made him unscrupulous, to find ways to create the greatest benefit, fuck any moral qualms. He taught me to think.”

“I have a feeling you taught him more about thinking than he taught you. But he was smart enough not to succumb to his desire for you.”

“Not for long I don’t think, especially if things had been different, if my father’s band had defeated you. What with our friend playing seducer and bringing forth his lust.”

“Fortunately that would never have happened.”

“Instead you brought forth mine.”

“Not hard for a boy who has just discovered the desires of a man.”

“Not hard for any man, at least those who appreciate gorgeous, sexy women.”

“Not hard? But you are hard,” she purrs, caressing his hardening cock beneath his leathers.

They rush to their little sanctuary and quickly strip. She pulls his cock into her throat. Not quite fully grown, it easily fits. He pulls her over him so he can do the same for her. His skills bring her over before his spurts fill her mouth. They rest on their sides, but continue attending to the genitals in front of them. Once he gets hard again, which because of his youth doesn’t take long, she pulls him between her thighs and aims his cock into her dripping cunt. He plunges deep and hard, but withdraws slowly, savoring the feeling despite also concentrating on the beautiful face below him. And the beautiful tits which he caresses and eventually suckles as he continues the slow, relentless fuck.

Eventually, inevitably, he needs greater friction. And she does too, grabbing his round little butt cheeks and pulling him down into her with more and more force and greater and greater frequency. Not long after, he cums, and she closes her eyes and feels those bursts of heat deep inside her. The demonstration of his culmination of pleasures makes her shiver, including the flesh surrounding his pulsating cock. Not quite an orgasm, nevertheless it thoroughly sates her. And the shivering pleases him, and not just physically.

They kiss softly afterwards, warm lips against warm lips before his thoughts and feelings dissolve into unconsciousness. She lets him sleep on top of her, enjoying his breathing and the retreat of his penis out of her sodden cunt. His weight does not bother, nor does she feel trapped. She contemplates their decision and smiles. Her life will always have purpose, no matter its length, its eternity. She senses her grandfather’s smile.

“And thus began my life of independence,” Rosa finished the narrative. “The protector of my people. An invisible force for justice and retribution, my little band of vigilantes.”

“So you’re a comic book hero,” Lindy suggested.

Rosa laughed. “I suppose I have been.”

“Still are,” said Gia.

“Anyway,” Rosa continued, “it left me with a real and ongoing purpose, which basically kept me in South America. My sisters eventually joined me to visit, and to, probably more purposefully, enjoy a repast of corrupt flesh, which, with my job as assassin, became available easier, and I ate, like clockwork, every fifty years.”

“Hey,” said Alexandra, “We happened to enjoy your company, right Chanda?”

“Of course,” Chanda agreed. “Making the reason for our visit even better.”

They laughed.

“And you didn’t leave with Nick, Chanda?” I asked.

“It was difficult enough with my getting aboard the Portuguese ship,” Nick explained. “Not with the captain, who was a minion, but others on board. A woman, and from another race other than Caucasian? It would not have been possible.”

“I had to pretend to be a boy and a servant when I left Japan centuries later,” Miwa reminded me.

“But this glamour,” I began.

“I can look older, or younger in my case now, but cannot fundamentally change my appearance in a person’s mind,” Nick answered before I finished asking.

“This is different for you, this skin?” I asked.

“Completely. Unlike Xo, who always looks like a handsome young scholar of Chinese descent, or Simon looking ever prettier as a blonde, I completely changed my looks from skin to skin, but always looked masculine, like a quarterback I suppose looks masculine and attractive to the opposite sex. An alpha male. And young enough to complete the attraction, with enough maturity to be essentially a man’s man. My skill at appearing to age had the obvious purpose of disguising my immortality. This is the first time I have had to look younger than my true self in order to attract women.”

“And he’s quite stunning as a young man,” Naomi said.

“Did ... my mother see you that way?”

“Of course,” Nick smiled. “She sees the real me now.”

“Could I see it?”

“Changing sides?” Nick smirked.

“Just curious,” I chuckled.

“I can’t. You expect me to look the way I look,” he shrugged.

A vague answer, but I understood.

Discussing the difference in his skin brought up its disturbing reason. The last skin. A man much closer to death than to birth. I looked at Xo, who, like Nick, had become a less vibrant creature. But he had an ageless look, the way Orientals can when taking care of themselves. But he never looked like a man in his twenties. Forties maybe. Probably older.

“Yes,” he said, noticing my stare. “It is by far my oldest skin.”

I nodded. He hadn’t read my mind. He was just the smartest man in the room and understood my gaze.

I remembered Simon. He looked like a man who had been pretty, but had matured beyond it to an aristocratic handsomeness. With hair intact and remaining blonde, and with healthy skin and body, he too could have been in his forties or his sixties. But not in his twenties.

The choice of bedmates surprised me. Maddy approached me and took my arm. “You’re coming home with me,” she said. Xo’s Indian beauty stood near us and smiled.

“What about Maggie?” I asked.

“We rarely fuck the same man at the same time. She’ll be heading to her twin, and mine will be meeting us at my apartment.”

“Does he know?”

“He’s Nick’s minion, but no. So no getting in his head. I’m sure it would intimidate him when you make me pass out, but hopefully Gala will distract him.”

“I will do my best,” the Indian beauty grinned.

“My boy always wanted to watch some girl on girl action,” Maddy explained, “and since my sister and I don’t roll that way, even if it’s what fueled his fantasy, sixty-nine with this gorgeous creature should hopefully suffice, especially when he’s fucking me and has her bouncing his balls on her tongue. Until she gets completely distracted by your hot cock and your crazy mind.”

“Sounds like fun,” I chuckled, my cock completely agreeing.

And so it went. A Buzz clone drove us to Brooklyn, to the apartment building Nick owned and Lindy also lived in.

A small skinny man in thick glasses met us in front of the building. “Nerd to the core,” I thought, but not cruelly. Mostly amused. Shy glances studied the voluptuous dark skinned beauty accompanying us in the old, slow elevator sending us to the top floor. Eyes widened. His smile too. I think he nearly drooled. He definitely liked the view.

Soon after, he saw all of this beauty: full breasts and ass and slender in between. He and I became audience to the pale petite Irish cutie and the deep tanned, statuesque, voluptuous Indian making love, a spellbinding study in contrasts. Once in bed, Maddy led the way, tongue and lips and fingers covering every inch of remarkable torso until lips found pussy lips and she straddled the beauty. Pausing in the race to who came first, both sets of eyes beckoned us to join them.

“I believe that’s our cue,” I said, pulling off my clothes and setting myself behind the Indian’s delicious ass, both visually and orally, as I couldn’t help tasting it, touching Maddy’s tongue at one point before sweeping mine across the woman’s asshole.

For a little man, he had a fairly impressive cock, which he soon embedded inside his lover without the preliminaries I had enjoyed. Of course he had become familiar with Maddy’s small round butt, and it had been months since I had ravished the voluptuous beauty I sampled. I soon followed his example.

My eyes closed. I brought Xo’s other angels to the event via Zhenzhen’s fetus. Gala’s climax, coming soon after I entered her, almost caused a quick ending, but somehow, perhaps my unreadiness to complete the moment, kept it from becoming a shared event. It did bring us to a high plateau, a place where everything felt intense, but somehow it managed to build even higher. It could never have been one of my longer fucks, though. Time tended to suspend in these moments, but I knew only a few minutes could have passed by the time my thrusts became hard and fast and needful, and Gala pushed just as hard against me at a perfect pace. I exploded when she exploded and all her sister angels exploded with us, sending us into the stratosphere of ecstasy without a net for our descent. I know at least I passed out.

I awoke to a giggle coming from between my legs. Maddy sucked my half-hard cock. “There you are,” she said between mouths full.

Beside us, Gala rode the young man who marveled at the movement of her tits. His head was near Maddy’s, but he paid little attention to his lover attending to another man’s cock. I must have looked puzzled because Maddy crawled over despite my cock not quite hard enough to penetrate her. She did keep her hand on it and pushed it against her pussy lips as she stroked it.

“He came pretty quickly when he fucked me,” she explained quietly. “Must have really enjoyed having his fantasy fulfilled. We got him up again, rather quickly. Two mouths and all.”

She stopped her report with a kiss, followed by several others. Her pussy stroked my cock as much as her hand, the latter working the head and the former the shaft. Those strokes and the intense kissing proved successful, and she soon led me inside her. “Mmm,” she approved, breaking the kiss, but keeping her eyes closed. I pulled her down for more kissing while she slowly humped me. I brought her sister angels to join us.

“Weird,” she moaned. “Maggie.”

“You okay?” I asked her.

“Close your eyes again,” she responded as an answer. The connections had broken.

In the crude parlance of escort advertisement, Maddy would be considered a spinner. Petite. Lightweight. A man below her could control her. Spin her on his cock I suppose. It was an illusion. She had the power of an eternal angel. She bounced hard against me, and only got harder. Lifting my hands, I found her small round breasts, squeezing them and letting them slide through my hands until I tugged on her nipples. She liked that.

I lasted much longer this time. A gradual rise in pleasure matching the gradual quickening of her ride. It became more and more exquisite. More and more intense. Until we reached a pinnacle of sweet pleasure. And I wanted to control its peak.

Pulling her against me, fighting her desire to rise, I lifted and turned and had her below me. Immediately I pounded into her even harder than before, my back bent to chew on a nipple while fingers squeezed the other. My other hand roughed up her cit. Moments later we came, all of us. The two of us continued fucking, more undulations that somehow matched. Throbbing flesh thrusting in and pulling out of throbbing flesh.

Within this cosmic climax, towards the end where oblivion usually took hold, I sensed an alarm. An indecipherable shout. My wife.

“Eva,” I murmured.

“What?” said Maddy groggily.

“I have to go home,” I said.

“We should hurry,” said Gala lifting off the skinny man and his limp dick.

Maddy’s eyes also opened wide. We scrambled to get dressed. I knocked loudly on Lindy’s door. She opened it wearing a robe. Behind her I could see the blonde angel Betty dressing. “I know,” the angel said,

“Know what?” asked Lindy.

“She should come too,” I insisted, realizing Betty must have tried to keep her in the dark.

Betty nodded.

“You need to get dressed,” I told Lindy. “Something happened at the gallery.”

“Shit,” Lindy responded, dropping her robe as she moved back into her apartment. Her lush, strong ass shifted, but did nothing to excite me. Something terrible had happened.

We filled the Buzz clone’s limo, and he rushed through late night Brooklyn streets, driving expertly through the little traffic there.

We could get no closer than a couple blocks away. West Broadway had been cordoned off, and news vans had begun filling the area around it. When we exited the limo, a tough looking brunette woman somewhere in her thirties greeted us. A shield dangled from her neck. A detective. “Follow me,” she said. Her shield allowed us into the catastrophe, and allowed me to embrace my frightened, pregnant wives standing a couple storefronts down from Nick’s gallery.