He’d just stormed a brothel.
Atop the bed was a couple. The female’s buttocks bounced up and down with the help of her lover’s hands upon her hips. Her coiffure dangled in strands down the centre of her back in a tangled mess, nearly reaching to her rounded bottom.
Baylian stood, time and space frozen around him, and stared at the sight. The man below her drove into the girl with violence and she practically screamed with each thrust. His hands held her in place. The skin into which his fingers sank shone white and red between each digit.
Baylian had never laid eyes on such a brutal coupling.
“You’ve a tight li’l pussy,” the man growled into her ear, then bit down on her shoulder. The girl didn’t seem to notice the pain of the bite, but, each time the man shoved his cock inside her, Baylian could feel her agony from where he stood. Why did the man pursue her so? And who had granted him permission to abuse her in this way?
And what gave Baylian such a fierce urge to participate?
There was no rationale for it, but bearing witness to such a sadistic, carnal act made his stomach tighten and flip over with anticipation. With an intensity that took him aback, Baylian longed to taste the experience of occupying her body in the human way, to feel the warmth of flesh against flesh, to sense her soul mating with his.
The man released a moan and, mere seconds later, he let the girl go. Baylian could still see the finger-shaped bruise marks on her hips and arms. She rose up on her hands to remove herself from him, when he shoved her to the side.
“Get off, whore.” His voice sounded gruff with disgust as she fell from the bed onto the floor. “I’m finished wiv you.” He got up, stepped into his trousers and shoes, then pulled his shirt over his head. Tucking his tails haphazardly beneath his belt, he pulled on his well-worn, brown jacket that sported large black patches over the elbows, then shoved his dingy grey derby over his greasy, thinning brown hair.
The moment the frail door slammed shut, the girl stood, reached over and opened the drawer in the small bedside table. She took a few sips from a brown bottle. The bitter scent of laudanum wafted towards Baylian as feminine footsteps echoed from the hallway.
“Ruby, I seen your john leave. You ready for the next one, then?”
“I want a bath first—with scalding hot water this time, you shrivelled-up old cunt,” the whore snapped at the woman.
“Another fuckin’ bath? You bathe more than four whores put together.”
“And I make more money for this bloody brothel than four whores put together, so shut it, bitch.”
Sheathing his sword, Baylian seeped back into the alley. He swept the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated there. Would she really couple again that soon? Did she enjoy it so much? Humans were notorious for mating and producing children, even when there wasn’t enough money coming in to feed a single person. What was it about the sexual act that compelled humans to participate with such fervour, such frequency?
Although he knew it was forbidden to directly interfere in matters of the flesh, he’d certainly like to find out. There were always ways around the system. It only took memorisation of the rules and an inventive mind to find an approach that wouldn’t get a creative individual caught. And, besides, he had a bit of time on his hands.
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