Communion
Drandmrslecter & Horserider91271
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Summary: Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling explore a very intimate angle to their already profound relationship...
Timeline: After Hannibal.
Rating: NC-17
Copy: Part 1 of 1
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The
date was circled in red on 2 different calendars. There could be no mistakes or miscalculations-too much
depended on accuracy. Preparations
had to be made-there were fresh linens that had to be carefully laid out,
scented oils and candles to be decided upon, lingerie to be selected, and of
course, there was the dinner menu.
This
was a sacred time…a time for intimacy so profound that it had the capability
of providing goosebumps to the couple who anticipated its monthly occurrence.
No
Mass or Holy Offering would compare to the Communion that Hannibal Lecter was
about to receive this evening from his beautiful lover, Clarice Starling.
Tonight,
there would be no small talk, no discussions on Dante or Hawkings, no dancing on
the terrace. Dinner would be served
there, but the two would probably not touch it.
Tonight,
the servants would be dismissed an hour earlier than usual and the third floor
would be off limits to them for an additional hour the following morning.
When they were allowed to go upstairs, they were to ring a bell so as to
alert our couple of their presence on the floor.
The
hamper that would hold the previous nights linens would be right outside of
their door and would be covered by a sheet with a red ribbon around it.
Tonight
was the most wonderful night of the month for our couple.
It was the “night of nights” as Hannibal liked to call it….
Tonight,
he would be relishing Clarice with all of the wild abandon of an animal…primal
instincts so imbedded in all of us that just the thought of them could drive a
weaker person over the edge and into the abyss.
Tonight,
Clarice Starling began her menstrual cycle.
Horserider
91271-
It
had begun with an idea that he had about one month into their relationship…
The
clerk at the theosophical shop had
been most helpful. Despite her
heavy makeup, rather Halloween in appearance, and the multitude of pentagrams
she had worn, something that to Hannibal simply did not matter, she was very
knowledgable in regard to symbolism and different cultures.
He
had agreed with her on the choice of incenses, though his tendency toward
discretion with strangers had precluded him telling her his ultimate plan.
He held no doubts that the Wiccan would have appreciated it: she would
have viewed it as a deference to the Goddess.
It was just that the plan was something special for him and Clarice alone
to share.
He
would start with “Aphrodesia”, a single black stick from India.
He liked the sweet, spicy, somewhat heavy smell of it.
It brought to mind his hunger for the matter at hand.
A
massage with a similar oil would accompany that, as he wanted for Clarice to
relax. It would put her in the
proper mood, as well as let her flow freely.
To
assist the process, he had purchased some chocolate covered strawberries from
the most outrageously expensive (and best) bonbon shoppe that he knew of.
He knew she would eat them readily and would not question him if she
tasted the two pills he inserted into two of them.
The ready-blended caplets would serve well: the acetaminophen precluding
any cramps, and the aspirin thinning her juices.
He would hand-feed them to her two hours before the festivities began.
He
would massage her until the whole stick burned, and then light another.
The next one on the selection would be Copal, a sacred incense valued by
the Mayans and the Aztecs for love and purification.
It would blend well with the Aphrodesia and not make for a clash in his
sensitive nostrils.
He
worked on setting the candles up in the room.
He
had chosen an equal number of white and scarlet ones. Unscented; too many scents were too much, and there were no
candles to be had that matched his incenses perfectly.
Better to let the sticks do their task, and the wax to provide its erotic
light.
He
still thought of white as the perfect color for Clarice, even though she was
long since fallen form her “Vestal Virgin” status in her “church”, the
FBI. He also liked to think that he
had somewhat converted her from that color, the idea bringing a grin to his lips
every time he thought of it. But some themes remained unchanged despite current
circumstances, and his preference was
clear here.
Scarlet
red suited him well..the flesh he had devoured before for other reasons, and the
blood he would have tonight as part of his deep intimacy with his one true love.
It
caused him to bring to mind some menu preferences he had, but he pushed those to
the side.
He
doubted Clarice would approve; Paul Krendler had been one thing, but such menu
items would have to be harvested fresh, and the idea of an innocent provider of
those really didn’t appeal to him either. Filet Mignon with his own specially
blended marinade would do nicely anyway, and it was something he knew that
Clarice relished.
Drandmrslecter:
Hannibal
was now in their Master Bedroom putting the finishing touches on setting the
proper mood and atmosphere for this evening’s events and as he did so, he
couldn’t help but smile. He was
musing on the events that had led up to this monthly ritual and let out a small
chuckle.
Baltimore,
Memphis, Florence and back to the Chesapeake.
Clarice, a young naïve academy student sent to “wheedle” him by her
mentor Jack Crawford. His crimes
were unspeakable, and yet she found herself oddly attracted to him.
The two had danced a psychological dance long before their nightly dances
on their terrace.
Human
flesh, blood. The very source of
life itself, cravings and desires tabood by society.
“Forbidden Fruit” tasted by Clarice at Hannibal’s own hand and
savored. Her senses heightened
beyond all that is reasonable, and now desires so richly satisfied that she
herself can not understand how one can be so fortunate.
Once
they were living together in Buenos Aires..it was apparent that their desire for
each other would be insatiable and the other carnal desires of Hannibal Lecter
needed to be met and in such a way that would not cause suspicion as to their
whereabouts. The need for his
“specialty items” as he liked to call it were met very carefully.
The
first time Clarice had begun her cycle, approximately thirty-two days into their
sexual relationship, they were having dinner and speaking in Italian.
They were dancing on the terrace when Clarice excused herself.
When she returned, she had mentioned that she needed to sit down.
She had begun cramping slightly and Hannibal had escorted her to her
private bedroom.
It
was a few hours later, when Hannibal had checked in on her to make sure she was
all right. She was reading Dante
when he had sat down next to her. They
began speaking in Italian again discussing some passages of “Inferno” as the
scent of her flow began to intoxicate him.
His nostrils flared at the aroma of both her jasmine body wash and her
menses.
She
saw the hunger in his eyes and thought back to the first time she had put the
late Paul Krendler to her lips. The
anticipation, the excitement, the hunger that had been satisfied, the
extraordinary events that followed. Hannibal
had denied her nothing and she was all the better for it.
She had decided then never to deny him anything as well.
She would see that his every carnal need was fulfilled.
They
then agreed that every month, they would set aside one special night for
Hannibal to indulge himself in both her flesh and blood and for the past three
years, they hadn’t missed a month.
Just
as Hannibal was lighting the last candle, there was a knock on the door.
He
looked up as he heard the bedroom door close and saw Clarice standing before
him. Her hair was down and she had
no makeup on. She had on a white
chiffon nightgown that flowed as she walked over to him and she smelled of baby
powder.
Hannibal
was wearing only his silk red boxer shorts as he asked her,
"Are
you ready, my dear?”
“Yes,”
came her soft reply.
Horserider
91271-
He
took in the sight of her from where he stood.
All
was in place; she had begun as planned. Even
at the distance, his nostrils missed nothing, and as the primal scent flooded
his senses he felt a small twitch in his torso.
He had the fleeting desire to leap at her and cover her fiercely like an
alpha wolf would, but he suppressed it. He
did not wish to injure, merely to pleasure, and her swollen and sensitive organs
would surely take contusion from such action.
It would never do.
As
he watched her with his nostrils flared, she closed the distance to him and
looked expectantly into his face.
Best
to light the stick right then, before she pushed him outside of his control.
He
turned from her and ignited the slender back wand, then placed it firmly into
the holder, blowing the flame out quickly once the end was bright red.
The sweet smoke that arose goaded his desire, and he wondered briefly if
the person who had created the scent had named it Aphrodesia for that reason.
Quickly,
he grasped the vial of Patchouli oil from the lace-covered surface of the
credenza. Too quick, too hard-he
felt the tiny bottle shift its shape slightly in his hand. Control...calm must
be had before he would continue; he knew he would not stop to bandage his hand
should he clench his fist until the bottle broke.
Closing
his eyes, he watched a mental metronome swing slowly back and forth, back and
forth, yes, that was right…slower and slower went the pendulum, his heartbeat
and blood pressure fighting him but eventually succumbing to his mental power,
and slowing nicely to a reasonably safe rhythm.
He
paused for a moment until he was certain that they were quelled in their mutiny
on him…for now anyway.
Clarice
watched him as he paused, well aware of his mental struggle with himself, and it
pleased her mightily. She secretly
enjoyed watching his lust for her run conflict with his infamous iron-clad
control, and the thrill of doing something dangerous filled her, even though she
was not yet sure of exactly what he had in store for that night.
Perhaps
a nice massage? She had seen him
take a tiny bottle into his hand, surely massage oil.
That would be fantastic, it would ease the tension in her back and behind
her kidneys. Hannibal always
empathized with her during this time, and was ever considerate by doing such
things.
He
had never failed to amaze her this way. If
the world knew this other side of him, the side that only she had come to know,
they would either disbelieve or reel with shock; it would be the story of the
century, of that she was sure, and it was fantastic enough to be a legend it its
own time, like his brutality. And it was all hers; hers only.
She valued it more than whatever jewel he could present her with.
Calmed,
Hannibal turned to her and approached her.
“You
please me immensely tonight, Clarice. Thank
you for wearing white.”
“You’re
welcome. I like red on you…it’s
very you. Gives you some more color, I hope you’ll wear it again.”
“Oh,
I have every intention of it…. every intention…” his voice trailed off as
a slight mysterious grin slipped over his features.
“I’ve
pictured white as perfect for you ever since we first met in Baltimore, and even
now you are mine wholly. I like the
virginal look on you, it has an appeal.”
He
slipped his arms around her, to the back of the nightgown where the zipper pull
hung.
“But
I like the splendor of you nude before me better, I’m afraid.
May I?”
Clarice
had caught the glint of the bottle in his hand. Definitely a massage was on the agenda, how wonderful.
“Please
do.”
Drandmrslecter:
Clarice
let the nightgown fall down to her ankles as Hannibal stood before her as he
watched it fall to the floor.
She
was left wearing only her silk panties….and a tampon.
Hannibal
gazed at her, the red sparks flying like fireworks in his dark maroon eyes.
“Lay
down.” was all he said to her as Clarice moved over to the bed and got on her
tummy.
Hannibal
poured the oil into his open palm as he then began to massage it deeply into her
back. Clarice let out a small sigh
as he rubbed in a circular motion over her entire upper and lower back.
Clarice’s muscles immediately began to relax as her eyes remained closed the
entire time. He then slowly made
his way down her legs and ankles.
“That’s
amazing,” she said as he continued to rub the oil into her using techniques he
had read about in the Kama Sutra.
“I’m
so glad you’re enjoying it,” Hannibal responded, all the while remaining
deliberate in his movements.
“Now..on
your back,” he instructed as Clarice turned over and presented her front to
him. She was laying on the fresh
linens he had put there earlier and they soaked up the oil well.
Hannibal
then gently continued to massage her, starting with her temples and working
slowly down from her neck, then her shoulders, arms and hands before moving to
her legs and ankles once more.
Clarice’s
eyes watched him so she could see the control he was displaying and she almost
let out a small giggle. She knew
how “good” he was behaving, almost like a little boy on his best behavior so
he can get his treat later. He saw the smile she had on her face as he chuckled.
“Are
you enjoying this, Clarice?” he asked.
“You
know I am,” she answered with a smile.
“Good,”
was all he said as he finished massaging her, placed the bottle back onto the
credenza, and covered her with himself.
“Are
you ready for me, my darling” Hannibal then said looking down at her and
balancing his weight on his elbows.
Clarice
wrapped her arms around his neck and gazed at him lovingly as she answered very
softly-
“Yes.”
“Are
you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“May
I begin?”
“Yes,
Hannibal, you may.”
Hannibal
then put his lips to Clarice’s as their tongues embarked on a magical journey.
They began to nip at each other’s mouths as Clarice’s hands caressed
his face and as she ran her fingers through his dark hair.
Hannibal
let out some small moans as his mouth then moved very slowly down her neck to
her breasts where he began to tongue her nipples, making tiny circles around
each one.
Clarice
watched as she sighed and continued running her fingers through his hair.
He
then ran his tongue further down, now making his way between her breasts, down
her tummy, over her belly button and down to the top of
her panties. His hands caressed each inch of her as he continued to kiss
and lick. Clarice lay there in
ecstasy, sighing and softly saying “Yes….baby….yes,” as she felt
Hannibal smile.
Once
at her panties, Hannibal glanced up and looked into Clarice’s eyes.
She continued to watch him as she gave a little nod of approval.
Hannibal
then slowly lowered Clarice’s panties down to her ankles and removed them.
His stiff penis now poked through the flap of his boxers as he raised
himself to get them off and throw them onto the floor. All that was left now was
the careful task of removing her tampon.
He
then looked at her as she continued watching his artful work as she gave another
nod.
He
took that as his cue as he placed one hand on her pubic bone and the other on
the string. Placing his fingers
gently around her labia, he slowly pulled the tampon out as Clarice lay
motionless. He placed the tampon on
the credenza next to the bottle of oil, looked at Clarice and said,
“I
love you. What I now take from you
now I take out of love and desire,
not lust.”
“I
know.”
Clarice
then spread her legs as Hannibal then lowered his face to place his mouth over
her entire vaginal opening. His
lips were directly on her labia as he then began to kiss and lick them.
His
tongue then lightly circled the folds of her inner labia as he inhaled deeply
and started to lick her wet and red juices from her soft tissue.
He
held onto her legs and tightened his grip on her as he buried his head deeper
and deeper inside of her, being careful not to press too hard as to cause her
any cramping.
Clarice
held onto his head as she writhed. She
began to groan as he took his nourishment from
her. She continued to say “Yes…” as he continued to eat and drink
of her.
“Don’t
stop,” she managed to sigh as he she felt the vibrations of his groans inside
of her as he licked and sucked like a hungry infant.
Horserider91271-
It
was every bit as good as it had been the very first time....
Clarice
had watched in pleasant surprise, too stunned to make any commentary. It had
never even occurred to her to think that a man would want a woman during this
time, much less like what Hannibal was doing to her.
The
Lutheran home and their teachings about adolescence had not ever sprouted the
idea in her mind, nor had any of her brief dates. The only person who she had
ever discussed the subject with at length was Ardelia, and they had not talked
of this.
But
like in all things, she might have known it would be a far different experience
with Hannibal.
She
had expected a massage, and was presented with the best one she had gotten from
him yet.
When
he had lit the second stick of incense, the room was thick and dreamy with
scented smoke, and a light she had never before seen had crept into his eyes.
He
had slowly stroked and licked her upper body, making her mad with desire that
she couldn't sate; she was on her period, and everyone knew men didn't like to
bother around that mess...
...or
so she thought. Hannibal's hands had inched down to her panties and slid them
down her legs. She was quite lost in his other attentions to her when she
realized her underwear was clutched in his hand. She looked at him, confused, as
he put it to his face and inhaled her essence. She blinked stupidly, transfixed
by the peaceful look on his face as his nostrils widened, his eyes closed in
carnal pleasure.
He
opened them then, and she swam in the maroon pools as she heard the low tones of
his voice, not venom now but velvet:
"Clarice,
remember when I asked you if you thought I was helping you, giving you clues,
because I liked to think of how you would taste...about eating you up?"
A
tiny thread of fear pushed its way into Clarice's mind. She shoved it down into
the blackest pool of her subconscious until it drowned there and she could reply
without a hitch in her voice.
As
she did so, Hannibal wound the string of the tampon around his index finger and
eased it out by such minute degrees that it slipped out without notice and lay
on the bed. Neither looked at it; they gazed into each others eyes, suspended in
the question.
Clarice
cleared her throat.
"Yes.
I remember perfectly. And....you do. You want to now."
The
possibility had always been there; she knew it from the very beginning. The
chance one took when having any sort of relationship with a cannibal.
"Yesssss....Clarice,
I want your flesh and your blood. Now, here. But you will enjoy it, that I
promise you. You are my one true love, Clarice, and I want all of you in every
sense of the word."
She
closed her eyes slowly, and nodded her permission to her fate...
...and
she could only hope that Death would treat her this way, as the truth of his
words came to her suddenly with the first gentle stroke of his warm tongue
between her legs.
At
first he tasted her hesitantly, like a younger man might his first sip of very
expensive wine.
Then
his hunger grew for her body's liquor, and he growled hoarsely as he lapped her
juices furiously. She gazed at him, stunned at first that he had meant this,
then she lay back and enjoyed the tongue and the teeth that were eating and
cleansing her like never before.
Hannibal
held his lust for his love strongly in check as he lavished his best attentions
on every spot that he knew pleased her most, and with her sensitivity at this
time, it was more than she could bear.
She
began to thrash on the bed, bucking against his wet face that was no longer very
visible. He stayed there, keeping with her rhythm and not letting up the
momentum of his hunger.
He
growled louder at her, and it was the tiny noises of his suckling at her that
met her ears last as she was driven over the edge.
She
screamed his name, and she felt her abdomen spasm; he nipped her gently then
locked his mouth over her swollen cleft, as the delicious metallic flood came
with her usual one and he took all of it, savoring it and losing none.
When
he felt her shuddering let up after a few minutes, he blew gently into her and
sucked lightly on her again as she gasped and perspired. When he was quite sure
he'd had all she had to offer at this time, he licked her clean, taking his time
and allowing her to rest without further exciting her.
Clarice
had come down from the heady feeling to see Hannibal resting his chin lightly on
her pubic bone, his eyes shining a glowing red. That color was matched by
another lower on his face...the remnants of the meal he had pleased her so by
eating, the last of her juices slowly trickling down to his chin where they held
in suspension and did not fall.
She
was held captive by the spectacle.
Had
he looked like this at any of his crime scenes? In Memphis? If so, she did not
let it trouble her any more than the simple wondering of the question. It was
easily the most erotic scene she had ever witnessed.
"Hannibal,"
she finally breathed.
"Clarice..."
the name was reverent on his lips.
"In
Bozeman...we always had the flesh too...at communion."
"Are
you ready for that? Or do you think I could injure you?"
"No.
Please...."
It
was closest thing to a beg she could muster.
"Clarice,
if I could have you this way every night forever, then I would not take
exception to being called religious. I would like to receive this 'communion'
with you often..."
"Oh
please, yes, Hannibal -"
She
hadn't a chance to finish because her words were cut off by the throaty moan she
emitted as he entered her without another word.
He
took her first, and they exchanged the pleasures of the flesh all night as they
consummated their love again and again, their deep understanding of each other
punctuating their vocalizations as they screamed and howled their ecstasy into
the wee morning. Exhausted, they had then slept.
And
it got better and better every time, this 'communion' of sorts that they shared
every month.
Clarice
lay still, saving her energy until just the right moment, which would be soon
with Hannibal's skill geting progressively better...as it did every time.
She
would need all of her strength, and she smiled at the thought of it.
Fin
Copyright 2001, Drandmrslecter & Horserider91271