.Part 3When Jill woke up the day after Lynn had fucked her she was sore, really sore, her cunt was burning and she was aware of how tender her big tits felt, God, she remembered Lynn had really worked her over, slapping her tits and ass hard, she’d had to wear a nightdress that covered her up just so her husband didn’t see any marks.She went to the bathroom and stripped it off, fuck, just as she feared her tits were bruised, not to bad but certainly noticeable if anyone saw them, she checked her neck, only one bite, very faint and more on her shoulder than neck, she could easily hide it and make up some story of how she’d done it herself, an accident of some sort, she’d really have to have a word with Lynn about leaving marks on her, she’d love to let her just do what she wanted and she had no doubt Lynn would enjoy marking her bad, but no, she couldn’t risk it, she phone her later and sort out some ground rules.She’d been thinking the day before about how she would make her secret. Discharging lightning and fire might have been exotic disguised weapons, but that didn't ring true, and the rubbery, fleshy whip that had struck hadn't been tanned leather, it had been flesh and blood; blood that sprayed when he'd cut with the knife.The knife. That was the key to the revelation. He'd wielded it like any other blade, but it hadn't just cut; it stole something from whatever it hit, drew out soul, or spirit, or some other nameless something, and it had flooded him with it. Deep in the pit of his stomach, somehow beyond just being inside, he'd felt it gather and boil and rage and then flood through him like every adrenaline burst he'd ever had rolled into one.His heart had pounded, his senses exploded and for a moment he'd been beyond pain or suffering or hurt; for a moment he'd been immortal, and through all the pain and changes that had followed, it was the memory of that moment now lost that weighed heavily on him; because he knew it was never coming back.
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