Black Petals Snow
It was a holiday eve in early winter and there was magic in the air.
Mothers and children running around with pots and presents. The streets were full of fairy lights, beautiful decorations, and fathers playing with their children. Aroma of cakes and smell cooking was in the air from each and every house.
Joy and whispers of songs filled the atmosphere. Boys in suits and flirty girls strolling the streets, searching for "the one". When the sun started to set, the wind got freezing, cold and chilled people to the bone, even the rich men who were dressed in furs had fled the streets.
A fierce wind blew everywhere and had no mercy on any man or beast.
In spite of the cold a girl walked down the streets. Lyla, a slim girl, her hair long and black as coal flaring in fire, her eyes green as a grove of trees in the spring, her lashes were long, her waist narrow, her stomach small and hungry.
She wore a thin white dress, torn, worn and stained, struggling to cover her left breast. Her skin was as pale as the first snow and she shivered with cold.
Lyla walks through the streets, a cold, smooth floor rubbing against her feet.
Her eyes flew up to the sky, to the fairy lights and glittering decorations hanging in the streets. Lyla came to a nice green corner where beautiful red and pink flowers rose.
Lyla ponders, if she pick them, she can make a bouquets that she can sell, and thus find a warm place to sleep in and great food, and family and love and ...
Lyla's reveries were interrupted by a gust of wind and raindrops that began to fall sharply. Lyla looked down and picked the flowers gently as the wind blew her hair and part of the petals.
The fact Lyla does not know is that these flowers were in the garden of a woman whose husband's business was shady, and she must not pick them.
When she had finished picking the flowers and was about to leave, the son of the woman who owned the flower garden noticed her. He ran after her, a big man, well dressed for such a winter, a long knee-length coat, black trousers at his feet and a cap.
He grabbed Lyla's bare shoulder and pulled forcibly.
"What did you do?" He moaned at her with a low gasp, with a cigarette in his mouth. His scream startled Lyla, who almost dropped the flowers on the wet floor.
"Thief, You poor whore!"
Lyla feels suffocated, the tears welling up inside her.
She looked up at him, he is a handsome guy, his blue eyes filled with anger that intimidate Lyla.
"The flowers ... from my mother's beautiful garden, you're lucky that I saw you, my father would have shot you from that distance!"
The boy's eyes shined as if he had an idea or that he found compassion for Lyla.
Despite the feeling of suffocation in her throat, Lyla managed to say
"I thought".
"What did you think?" he Interrupted her.
This time his voice was lower and pleasant.
"I thought I could sell the flowers and that's how I'd have new clothes and food and ... it did not occur to me that I was stealing"
"So, you need those flowers?" he asked, pulling Lyla aside to a dark alley.
Lyla looked down at her wet feet and saw his shiny shoes, she trembled.
"Can you forgive me?" said Lyla. The guy nodded with a devilish smile on his face, grabbed her chin and studied her.
"You're a beautiful girl." he whispered in her ear.
His whisper was warm, and a chill passed through her.
Lyla released her right hand from the embrace in which she held the flowers and put her hand on his heart, she felt his heart beating hard, his body was warm, her hands melted into him, he grabbed her hand over his heart and held it tight, clinging to her, her back rubbed against the cold wall, the petals began to be squashed between them, she pushed him a little, he stepped backwards.
Lyla began walking toward the darkness.
The guy took two more cigarettes out of his inside pocket, put one of them in his mouth and passed the other to Lyla who was a few steps ahead from him, He came close to her and she held out her hand and gently put the cigarette in her mouth.
He rummaged in his pocket, took out a box of matches and lit, first Lyla's cigarette and then his. The heat of the match and its light dazzled Lyla and warmed the tip of her nose. Lyla inhaled the cigarette into her lungs as if she has smoked for years, but at last she could not hold herself anymore and coughed.
He smiled.
They looked at each other and examined each movement, each inhalation, exhalation, blink. He threw the cigarette on the floor and reached out his left hand and stroked Lyla's hair, her hair was full of knots. He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes her face, as if searching for something else, her face was wet with rain and tears. She took the handkerchief from his hand and gently wiped her little nose, tossed it on the floor. the handkerchief floated down and soaked in the puddle.
The guy approached Lyla slowly, he came closer and closer. Lyla's heart was beating hard, she felt that her heart would come out of her chest in a moment and fly through the air.
From fear and panic the flowers fell from Lyla's hands to the floor, she bent down to pick them up and so did he, putting her hand on the flowers. He put his hand on hers, leaned toward her, He moved his mouth close to Lyla's mouth and kissed her cheek. She turned her head but he caught her chin and kissed again. She fell on her knees and so does he, His pants got wet.
He puts his claws on her shoulders, they went slowly, slowly down toward her breasts, Lyla felt paralysed. His claws went down to the end of her dress, he shed the dress of her, she shacked, he hugged her. His body was hot against her, she felt warm and loved!
He took off his coat and laid it on Lyla. She caresses his coat; it is pleasant to the touch.
His hand moved toward her groin, pierced her underpants, his hand was cold as opposed to her lips. He dug his fingers into her.
She does not understand what is happening, she does not know what she feels, pain or pleasure.
His lust made a bulge in his skinny pants. He pulled her panties down so wildly that she had to sit with her buttocks on the wet floor. He leaned toward her, and he came closer until she was completely lying down and he was over her. She felt his erection on her, and the heat of his body against the cold on her back, then he rose abruptly.
He dropped his pants to his knees, lifted her up and pressed her against the wall. His thick member rubbed against her slit softly. Lyla felt trapped and threatened but still felt she owed him.
He grabbed his shaft and penetrated it into her with great force. Lyla screamed, and he shut her mouth with his hand that for a minute she could not breathe and even when a choking sound came out of her mouth he did not leave until she moved her head away.
He thrust in and out of her again and again, blood dripped every time and ran down Lyla's legs. He groaned hard on her face. Lyla suddenly felt a terrible nausea, the stench of his mouth was unbearable, but he would not stop. In and out faster and faster, more and more, stronger ....
"Moan!", he scolded her.
Lyla, who does not know how to moan, mumbled sounds of pain from her mouth.
The humping rhythm got faster, the back of Lyla rubbing against the wall and scratching, the pain growing. Tears are constantly coming down her eyes. A loud moan came out from his mouth and he stopped, got out of Lyla and made a big backward step. She fell to the floor, it hurt and her feet were heavy. He leans over to her and hands her one flower. Lyla looked at the flower and smelled it while he lit a cigarette.
"Now I've picked your flower.", he grinned. The cigarette smoke came out of his mouth as if he were the devil himself.
He hands her the cigarette, and with a trembling hand she takes it from him and approaches her mouth to it, inhaling and exhaling, regulated her breathing, relaxing from the trauma that happened, she felt the smoke warms the inside of her body. The guy took another flower, this time pink and began to pluck his petals. "Yes ... no ... yes ... no ... yes." "He announced with every petal he rips off.
"No!" He said as he tore off the last petal of that flower. "You were lucky this time".
Lyla looked at him stunned with questioning eyes, not understanding at all what he is up to.
He takes another flower "Yes ... no ... yes ... no ... yes ...
"No," he announces again, tearing the stem of the flower whose petals were now scattered everywhere.
on the third time he took a red flower, the last petal of that flower was "Yes."
The guy picked up the last petal over his head and left. The petals flew in the cold wind and disappeared.
He got up and grabbed Lyla's head tightly.
"Open your mouth!" He commanded Lyla. Lyla shook her head, she knew what he wanted her to do, and she felt sick.
Lyla watched him standing over her, her eyes were shining, pleading, her mouth pursed.
He did not pity her, with his right hand he crushed Lyla's skull and with his left hand tried to push his semi-flaccid penis into her mouth.
Realizing it would not happen easily, he lifted his right leg and stepped hard on Lyla's toes.
The pain led to a scream that led Lyla to open her mouth, and he very quickly, without any hesitation, seized the opportunity fill it.
He humped while Lyla suffocated and coughed.
He lifted Lyla and hugged her, she cried, pushed him aside, and vomited on the floor.
He looked calm, stroked her head, and slowly lowering his hand down her back until he touched her behind, gave weak and then stronger spanks, grabbing Lila's waist and turning her around.
Her buttocks small and shrivelled. He spits and rubs himself harder. Lyla choked.
Rain began to fall hard on Lyla's back, she grabbed the wall while he tried forcefully to insert himself into her behind with no success, again and again, stronger and harder.
He grabs her hair with one hand and his cock with the other. He pushes, trying to force it into her tiny hole. On one unsuccessful attempt, Lyla bangs her head against the wall and blood dripped down her face.
He turned Lyla toward him, wiped the blood and tears.
"Stop crying, I do not like whining girls," he whispered in her ear, while he angrily gave up on her ass and pushed his frustration into her unready pussy.
she felt that a burn and hurt, it was dry. He held out his hand.
"Spit!" He ordered her.
Lyla did as he said and spit on his palm. He rubs his wet hand on his member and then pushed his fingers into Lyla.
Two fingers, three fingers, four. his Nails scratched her insides.
"Please stop it. Take it out." Lyla plead with great difficulty.
He took his fingers out of her and pushed himself back into her. Once again, he fucked her as her back scratched and bumped on the wall. He was pulling at her hair, almost ripping it off. The feeling of pain and speed increased, more than the last time.
The voices of the church choir that sounded from far away got louder with every minute and second that passed by, the high notes of the singers’ voices reassured Lyla, gave her hope, she focused on them and not the intense pain she felt.
The guy stops when their voices sounded from around the corner, they came closer and closer, Lyla's mouth opened, she wanted to shout for help, to scream, she waited for the right moment, when the guy could no longer escape.
"Hel.."
He shut her mouth with his hand and pressed her against the wall with a great force. Lyla's face crashed the wall, and a rusty iron taste came to her mouth.
the choir went away and their voices disappear slowly until they could hear no sound.
While her back was turned to him, blood ran down her breast and belly. He kept going.
Lyla, does not lose hope even though tears run down her eyes like a heavy rain on a cold day and blood came down like a bottle of red wine that broken off her body.
She grabs his scrotum and massages it, savouring the thought that his most sensitive organs were now in her hand, and the control it brought her.
Lyla pulls his testicles as if they were the flowers, but they will not unroot.
He feels his entire world has stopped and fallen down in one moment of vulnerability.
He feels helpless. The pain from his balls brings thoughts of damage done and caused. At once, the clock stopped ticking.
Lyla feels it too, a triumph through helplessness. She has left a mark.
The satisfaction she feels in this act is overcast by an awareness of how insignificant her retaliation is, in contrast to the cold wave of mortality now setting upon her.
The man pushed Lyla away, as her long fingernails hesitated to release their grip and scratched into his aching testicles. She let go and turned to him. Their eyes meet, each wounded in their own way, now feeling a strained compassion.
Suddenly, there were fireworks in the air. Colourful, beautiful, fill the silence with explosions.
Red and pink and blue exploded. The white moon shined over their heads like a big glowing crown.
The sounds of church bells combined with the sound of the fireworks whispered of songs. Songs that disappeared with Lyla's hearing. She touched her bloody head.
The guy looked at her tearful eyes, the blood that ran down her face. Sadness and sorrow permeated his body, through his anguish, to all his veins.
Lyla's head whirled, she fell on the cold floor, the guy caught her as she sank and laid her head gently on his knees.
"Do not worry, child. We will not meet again in the next world. You will go to heaven, but I am destined for hell."