Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
[Episode 33]
“Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide—“*
“Shit,” exclaimed Alex.
“Whit’s wrang,” asked Jessie.
“Graeme locked us in. Here you sit down and let me look at it. Remember, I’m the lock expert.” Jessie, now having complete trust in the man who just saved her from madding torture, relaxed on the floor.
Some lock expert, Alex said to himself. I can pick it if it’s a piece of cake, but I'm no expert.
He examined the handle and case. There was no keyhole on the inside – nothing to pick. The door strike was protected behind the molding, and the lever wouldn't move an inch.
Oh well, he thought. Maybe we'll be lucky, and it a flimsy old door ready to crack right open. He stood back and kicked hard at the handle. Not any give. He tried several more times with no result.
Alex had never tried before to beat down a door, but he'd seen many movies where a man would charge the door with his shoulder. He took about six feet back and ran to place his right shoulder against the latch side of the door. He felt like he broke his shoulder, and the door didn't budge. He gave a loud groan and sank to the floor.
Jessie heard his cry of pain and came to hold him.
“Alex, that’s eneuch! Dinna gae hurting yersel. We can jist bide til the polis let us free.”
He looked into her sweet, trusting eyes. "That might be very long."
“Whit? Ye said they were reet ahint ye!”
“I lied. I didn’t want Graeme to think I was here alone. It would have made him more dangerous.”
“But whyfor would ye nae tell the polis?”
“I did. That infernal Sergeant Lindsey won’t do a thing without solid evidence.”
“Oh, God.”
“When I left for here, I asked Morag to tell Lindsey where I was going and to bring help, but I doubt he will.”
“But hoo do we get oot o here?”
“We don’t.” Alex saw the fear come into her face. He needed to soften the blow somewhat. “At least not for a while. That door’s too solid. Even if the police come, Graeme will probably be long gone. If no one answers, they'll probably go away and come back in a few days. Who knows when they will find a way in. Even then, will they search the whole house down to this locked door in this corner of the basement?"
“So whit's gaun tae come o us, Alec?" asked Jessie. Despite Alex talking around the ultimate issue, she was starting to dread the worst.
"We stay here," he looked her in the eyes with a look of deep sadness, tears running down his cheeks. "It looks like I've made a mess of saving you, dear Jes. I don’t have any idea how to get us out of here!" He began to sob.
Jessie stared back with shock and disbelief. They were locked in this basement room, with no way out. No food, no water. They would die here. She also started to cry.
However, after a few minutes, Jessie began to experience a different feeling than despair. As she lay there, almost naked, with Alex, bare-chested, holding her in his strong arms, she felt a powerful affection for this man who had tried so hard to save her. She had been drawn strongly to him ever since they met. But her natural distrust of any man had made her keep him at a distance. Even last night, when she'd gone to sleep having erotic dreams of him, she'd told herself, he's an ootlander - he'll be awa in nae time - he'll brak yer hert...
But now, she knew she trusted this American. She didn't care if he would leave in a few days (if they lived that long). She had faith in Alex Maxwell. He was a good man! She felt a deep physical desire welling up - a tingling in her loins.
Jessie lifted herself toward him and raised his chin so she could look in his red, tear-filled eyes. Not one to say 'I luve you,' she wordlessly placed her soft lips on his and kissed him with an unmistakable desire. At the same time, her hand slipped down to caress his crotch gently.
Without hesitation, Alex responded in kind, opening his lips and slipping his tongue forward to toy with her's as his hands grasped her butt and pulled her body close to him. The heat between the two grew almost exponentially. The days of flirting, and advance and retreat had now come to the intensely desired end.
Instinctively, Alex reached to grab one of Jessie's breasts and drew a cry of pain from her. It stopped him in his tracks.
"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry, Jes. I wasn't thinking about your injuries. I let my lust take over! I'm such an idiot."
"Wheesht," she said, putting her fingers to his mouth. "It's no that bad. Mind, I kind o like feelins o pain to get alang wi sex. It maks me hotter. Dinna fash yersel, touse me onywhere, e'en reuchly. I'll be siccar tae let you ken gin it's tae muckle."
With that, she planted her lips back firmly on his and began to undo his jeans. She was hungry to hold his member in her hands.
Alex held the bonnie lassie tight in his arms. He had dreamed of this since he first saw her beautiful eyes looking down on him as he was preparing to die. She was so wonderful. The actual performance of sex was not only fulfilling but was the best of his life. Not that any physical part was that outstanding, but the powerful emotion he felt for her made it all seem heavenly. When she had mounted him and slipped his hard, eager cock into her warm, wet pussy, it had been difficult not to come immediately. He held his climax for as long as he could while she rode him like breaking a stallion. But the heavenly feel of her warm cunt pumping his cock and the sight of her sexy body straining to milk his essence forced him to shoot all too soon into her hot body. She had seemed to come just a moment later. Alex, however, was too experienced to assume Jessie didn't feign her reactions. Most women he had known were aware of the fragile male sexual self-image and would give 'compliments' when not entirely deserved.
Afterward, Jessie snuggled in the warm and comforting grasp of her lover. Alex had been phenomenal! She knew that she had strung him along for days. He was probably so horny he could have come at her first touch on his cock. But he seemed to work hard to please her and stretch out the experience for her satisfaction. Finally, she took matters into her own hands (so to speak) and mounted him cowgirl-style to bring him to the climax he deserved. Even then, he lasted far longer than she would have thought possible, and she came just moments after he did. And what an orgasm! Jessie put it down to her long celibacy and her depth of gratitude to the man who had saved her. Luve wisna intae the picter, she thought.
Basking in the physical glow of her mind-blowing climax, Jessie let one hand drift down Maxwell’s chest to his groin. There, to her surprise and delight, she felt a new stiffness growing. As she lifted her head, Alex brought his lips to hers.
*“Love swells like the Solway but ebbs like its tide—
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine." – Lochinvar, Sir Walter Scott
“Almost lost you,"**
After the second, longer, and even more satisfying love-making, Alex lay for a while, blissfully happy in the arms of the woman he loved. However, soon, a dark, nagging thought ate away at his joy. Not just the fear that they were going to die together here – but another, potentially worse fate. Graeme would return – with weapons and accomplices – to capture them. Jessie bound for white slavery and Alex sure to be killed.
Alex also thought of a more horrifying possibility. Jessie had told him some of Gallovidian folklore. Now it came to mind. Would their Graeme decide to burn the house down around them just as the original Graeme had murdered the Gordon of Muirfad.*** Alex made one promise to himself; he would not outlive Jessie. If she went first, he would kill himself.
As he contended with his warring emotions, he held his love close against the terrors around them. Jessie stirred, kissed him softly, and then lay her head again on his chest. She, too, knew the danger that faced them. But, in the arms of this man from Wisconsin, she felt strangely safe. She was prepared for whatever would come. And Jessie was determined that, if they went, they would go together.
**“Almost lost you,” he thought, surprised to find himself blinking back tears. "Been through too much, me and you. We're going to finish this thing together.”** ― Gerald Brom, The Child Thief
***Tales of Galloway, Alan Temperley 1979
Graeme came close, observing that since all was now satisfactorily concluded, they might as well be friends. He held out his hand. Apprehensively, the laird regarded it. His position was weak: to ignore the hand was to offer further insult. He stretched his arm tentatively through the door.
No sooner did their fingers touch, however, than Graeme seized the weaker hand in his own and quickly threw a noose of chain around the wrist. Holding it tight, with the laird’s shoulder pulled right to the door, he coupled the chain to an iron staple in the wall.
Laughing ferociously, Graeme called for a brand and instantly set fire to the pile of brushwood and logs that was against the door. Gordon of Muirfad was burned alive, and the castle and all within it were destroyed.
“Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide—“*
“Shit,” exclaimed Alex.
“Whit’s wrang,” asked Jessie.
“Graeme locked us in. Here you sit down and let me look at it. Remember, I’m the lock expert.” Jessie, now having complete trust in the man who just saved her from madding torture, relaxed on the floor.
Some lock expert, Alex said to himself. I can pick it if it’s a piece of cake, but I'm no expert.
He examined the handle and case. There was no keyhole on the inside – nothing to pick. The door strike was protected behind the molding, and the lever wouldn't move an inch.
Oh well, he thought. Maybe we'll be lucky, and it a flimsy old door ready to crack right open. He stood back and kicked hard at the handle. Not any give. He tried several more times with no result.
Alex had never tried before to beat down a door, but he'd seen many movies where a man would charge the door with his shoulder. He took about six feet back and ran to place his right shoulder against the latch side of the door. He felt like he broke his shoulder, and the door didn't budge. He gave a loud groan and sank to the floor.
Jessie heard his cry of pain and came to hold him.
“Alex, that’s eneuch! Dinna gae hurting yersel. We can jist bide til the polis let us free.”
He looked into her sweet, trusting eyes. "That might be very long."
“Whit? Ye said they were reet ahint ye!”
“I lied. I didn’t want Graeme to think I was here alone. It would have made him more dangerous.”
“But whyfor would ye nae tell the polis?”
“I did. That infernal Sergeant Lindsey won’t do a thing without solid evidence.”
“Oh, God.”
“When I left for here, I asked Morag to tell Lindsey where I was going and to bring help, but I doubt he will.”
“But hoo do we get oot o here?”
“We don’t.” Alex saw the fear come into her face. He needed to soften the blow somewhat. “At least not for a while. That door’s too solid. Even if the police come, Graeme will probably be long gone. If no one answers, they'll probably go away and come back in a few days. Who knows when they will find a way in. Even then, will they search the whole house down to this locked door in this corner of the basement?"
“So whit's gaun tae come o us, Alec?" asked Jessie. Despite Alex talking around the ultimate issue, she was starting to dread the worst.
"We stay here," he looked her in the eyes with a look of deep sadness, tears running down his cheeks. "It looks like I've made a mess of saving you, dear Jes. I don’t have any idea how to get us out of here!" He began to sob.
Jessie stared back with shock and disbelief. They were locked in this basement room, with no way out. No food, no water. They would die here. She also started to cry.
However, after a few minutes, Jessie began to experience a different feeling than despair. As she lay there, almost naked, with Alex, bare-chested, holding her in his strong arms, she felt a powerful affection for this man who had tried so hard to save her. She had been drawn strongly to him ever since they met. But her natural distrust of any man had made her keep him at a distance. Even last night, when she'd gone to sleep having erotic dreams of him, she'd told herself, he's an ootlander - he'll be awa in nae time - he'll brak yer hert...
But now, she knew she trusted this American. She didn't care if he would leave in a few days (if they lived that long). She had faith in Alex Maxwell. He was a good man! She felt a deep physical desire welling up - a tingling in her loins.
Jessie lifted herself toward him and raised his chin so she could look in his red, tear-filled eyes. Not one to say 'I luve you,' she wordlessly placed her soft lips on his and kissed him with an unmistakable desire. At the same time, her hand slipped down to caress his crotch gently.
Without hesitation, Alex responded in kind, opening his lips and slipping his tongue forward to toy with her's as his hands grasped her butt and pulled her body close to him. The heat between the two grew almost exponentially. The days of flirting, and advance and retreat had now come to the intensely desired end.
Instinctively, Alex reached to grab one of Jessie's breasts and drew a cry of pain from her. It stopped him in his tracks.
"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry, Jes. I wasn't thinking about your injuries. I let my lust take over! I'm such an idiot."
"Wheesht," she said, putting her fingers to his mouth. "It's no that bad. Mind, I kind o like feelins o pain to get alang wi sex. It maks me hotter. Dinna fash yersel, touse me onywhere, e'en reuchly. I'll be siccar tae let you ken gin it's tae muckle."
With that, she planted her lips back firmly on his and began to undo his jeans. She was hungry to hold his member in her hands.
Alex held the bonnie lassie tight in his arms. He had dreamed of this since he first saw her beautiful eyes looking down on him as he was preparing to die. She was so wonderful. The actual performance of sex was not only fulfilling but was the best of his life. Not that any physical part was that outstanding, but the powerful emotion he felt for her made it all seem heavenly. When she had mounted him and slipped his hard, eager cock into her warm, wet pussy, it had been difficult not to come immediately. He held his climax for as long as he could while she rode him like breaking a stallion. But the heavenly feel of her warm cunt pumping his cock and the sight of her sexy body straining to milk his essence forced him to shoot all too soon into her hot body. She had seemed to come just a moment later. Alex, however, was too experienced to assume Jessie didn't feign her reactions. Most women he had known were aware of the fragile male sexual self-image and would give 'compliments' when not entirely deserved.
Afterward, Jessie snuggled in the warm and comforting grasp of her lover. Alex had been phenomenal! She knew that she had strung him along for days. He was probably so horny he could have come at her first touch on his cock. But he seemed to work hard to please her and stretch out the experience for her satisfaction. Finally, she took matters into her own hands (so to speak) and mounted him cowgirl-style to bring him to the climax he deserved. Even then, he lasted far longer than she would have thought possible, and she came just moments after he did. And what an orgasm! Jessie put it down to her long celibacy and her depth of gratitude to the man who had saved her. Luve wisna intae the picter, she thought.
Basking in the physical glow of her mind-blowing climax, Jessie let one hand drift down Maxwell’s chest to his groin. There, to her surprise and delight, she felt a new stiffness growing. As she lifted her head, Alex brought his lips to hers.
*“Love swells like the Solway but ebbs like its tide—
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine." – Lochinvar, Sir Walter Scott
“Almost lost you,"**
After the second, longer, and even more satisfying love-making, Alex lay for a while, blissfully happy in the arms of the woman he loved. However, soon, a dark, nagging thought ate away at his joy. Not just the fear that they were going to die together here – but another, potentially worse fate. Graeme would return – with weapons and accomplices – to capture them. Jessie bound for white slavery and Alex sure to be killed.
Alex also thought of a more horrifying possibility. Jessie had told him some of Gallovidian folklore. Now it came to mind. Would their Graeme decide to burn the house down around them just as the original Graeme had murdered the Gordon of Muirfad.*** Alex made one promise to himself; he would not outlive Jessie. If she went first, he would kill himself.
As he contended with his warring emotions, he held his love close against the terrors around them. Jessie stirred, kissed him softly, and then lay her head again on his chest. She, too, knew the danger that faced them. But, in the arms of this man from Wisconsin, she felt strangely safe. She was prepared for whatever would come. And Jessie was determined that, if they went, they would go together.
**“Almost lost you,” he thought, surprised to find himself blinking back tears. "Been through too much, me and you. We're going to finish this thing together.”** ― Gerald Brom, The Child Thief
***Tales of Galloway, Alan Temperley 1979
Graeme came close, observing that since all was now satisfactorily concluded, they might as well be friends. He held out his hand. Apprehensively, the laird regarded it. His position was weak: to ignore the hand was to offer further insult. He stretched his arm tentatively through the door.
No sooner did their fingers touch, however, than Graeme seized the weaker hand in his own and quickly threw a noose of chain around the wrist. Holding it tight, with the laird’s shoulder pulled right to the door, he coupled the chain to an iron staple in the wall.
Laughing ferociously, Graeme called for a brand and instantly set fire to the pile of brushwood and logs that was against the door. Gordon of Muirfad was burned alive, and the castle and all within it were destroyed.
