Blood and Stone

by mollyGRL

Copyright© 2012 by mollyGRL

Romantic Sex Story: She was more than stone, more than an artist's sculpture. Can a man's love bring life? Can his creation bring him eternal happiness?

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   First   .

I came to be when the chisel last left my body, the instant he was done creating me.

I don't remember the before. What I remember is watching him step back, carefully looking me over with a practiced eye, looking for imperfections. I knew there were none, at least not in his eyes, or I would never have come to be.

He let his tools fall from his hands. The clatter they created would have made anyone jump. It was enough to startle me! If I had been able, I would have jerked in my position. But I could not. I was merely stone; sentient, but stone.

He didn't know that I could feel his hands as they reached forward to brush debris and dust from my naked limbs. I stood before him as he had created me: a life-sized stone figure, proud and naked. The only covering to my charms was my stone hand across my pubis, a modest and eternal shield. Most of my long stone hair lay across my back. The ends were just shy of hiding my proud and firm derriere. One clump of hair curled sweetly round my left breast drawing attention to the perfection he had created. They were impudent young breasts with firm nipples standing at attention!

When he was able to draw his eyes from by chest, I at last saw my face reflected in his beautiful blue eyes. I knew what held him enthralled. On my heart shaped face sat a sweet little nose, plump partially parted lips and delicately carved eyebrows. But it was the eyes reflected in his eyes, that stunned us both. Cold stone they may have been, but they were captivating and appeared to be peering directly into his.

"Bella" he whispered at me and I could feel the soft exhalation of breath upon my face.

I was his masterpiece, his creation, and I knew in that instant that he had created me with no model. He had molded me from his very dreams and fantasies.

I felt his love the moment he reached forward and tenderly cupped my stone cheek. Slowly he leaned closer. He stared down into my eyes, as I stared up into his. I felt certain that at any moment I would feel his lips upon mine.

The moment seemed to last a lifetime.

Then he pulled abruptly away from me when he heard a sound behind him. When he turned he gasped and fell to his knees in a prone position crying out "Master!" to a pompous rotund figure silhouetted in the door.

I hated that fat and greasy swine for causing my proud creator to fall to his knees, and for stopping the brush of lips that I had not known I craved until it was too late. I wanted to scream and hurl something, anything, so that we could again be alone.

"Si, bella Sebastien. You have done me proud," stated my new nemesis.

He strode unabashedly into the room and paid my poor creator no further heed as he slowly walked around me, inspecting me for quality of workmanship. It pained me to see my love prone on the floor, his forehead to the ground, his arms flung out before him in oppressed obedience.

The only bright side being that now I knew his name: my love, my Sebastien.

Though my stone eyes could not move I saw him. I saw his elegantly naked back, his young strong shoulders, and fine strong legs. His bare feet were as beautiful to me as were his wild dark hair and callused hands. I was created out of love, his ideal, and he was created for me, my ideal.

I was pulled from my musings when I felt the reptile's hands fondle my buttocks. Had I been able to move I would have slapped his hands away, spitting in his eye.

"Too bad she's made of stone, eh Sebastien? She'd be a ripe piece of flesh for my flesh."

The animal laughed at his own joke and moved to admire me from the front. I felt my love's stress as his body tensed and his fists clenched before him. But he was unable to move, for to do so would cost him his life.

"You may stand slave, I'm feeling generous at this moment."

My Sebastien stood, rising gracefully from his prone position. I saw a flash of hatred in his beautiful eyes before his gaze lowered respectfully to the floor.

"Thank you master," was his only response.

"I've a mind to place her near my baths, what do you think Sebastien? She was meant to be for the garden but I think maybe it would be a waste to leave her to the birds. Yes, she's beautiful enough to watch over me as my slave girls bath me!"

My stone flesh crawled at the though of spending eternity overseeing the baths of this cretin and others like him. But it was the thought of losing my love that made my heart ache as I had never yet felt in my short life.

"No!" my sweet love cried out unwisely, but he could not take the words back. My tormentor turned from me.


"Master forgive me; but she should be given a stone bower, for protection, and placed in the public gardens where she may be visited and admired by me ... errr, and those who would wish to view her."

My brave Sebastien! My love! How I wished I could kiss him for his defense of me.

The sharp backhand delivered by the master sounded loud and painful. The small dribble of blood on my beloved's lips was brought forth by the ring upon his master's hand. "Do not disrespect me, slave! What do I care what you want? She is mine, she is my property to do with as I wish! If I wish to use her as a pissing post that is what she will be!"

The smack had caused no reaction from my proud love, but the threat against me spurred him to violence. In the blink of an eye strong hands wrapped around the master's neck. No amount of useless clawing and struggling by the gasping weasel was enough to loosen the hold. My Sebastien was magnificent in his fury. Years of stone working had added a near inhuman strength to his grip. It wasn't long before he had snuffed out the life of his master. When he finally let go of the dead body it fell to a graceless heap at his feet. It was clear, by the unnatural lay of the head, that my love's strength had caused bones to snap and break in the end.

The pride I felt in my love was quickly doused with the realization that his actions would have repercussions. I feared what would become of him. Chest heaving he turned to me and spoke as if I were more than stone. "My death is worth his if it keeps you from him."

He looked down once more at the dead body and spat upon him. Then he picked up the dropped chisel and walked closer to me.

"Should I finish myself off my love? Should I spare myself the torture that will come to me once it is discovered I have killed my master?"

I would have wept, had I been able.

Sebastien raised the chisel to his chest and held it aimed at his heart. He closed his eyes briefly and looked once more into my eyes. My eyes begged and pleaded with him, within their stony confines.

"I go my love, I go happy in my chosen freedom, yet sad to be parted from you."

Pulling the chisel down and away from his chest he whispered, "I go freely, but not without a kiss."

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