Revealation: The Hunter and his Hunted

Chapter 1: His Arrival

The cold air of the evening frosted the windows with a glittering surface of chilled crystals, bringing a chill to the small, empty room. The black metal edge of the window is covered with frost, as if buried under the coldness. Snow gently floated down to the lifeless earth as it the soil let the emptiness freeze over. A light layer of white powder, soft and delicate, flittered its way onto the top of the pines, honoring it a new coat of diamonds, glittering its way to heaven, in the dead of the night. Whiteness took in all there was, and it piled on top of the grass, the flowers, the rocks and the meadows, hiding them from the world. Keeping them unseen, by the mere eye. It was deep in midnight as the full moon shone its bright light through the hazy glass. No nighting-gales were singing their tune, as if muted by the heaviness of the silence. A sedimental feeling pressured in the cold air, and no man could see the stars; for the dead of night, has engulfed them all into its selfishness.

It is then, when a small light shone from a far distant away, miles and miles away from this rural town. Nobody ever comes here. Nobody dares to come here. Nobody knows its existence anyways. Its name had been long forgotten... like a abandoned child, wailing out to the cold air. Lonely, helpless. Alone.

In the corner laid a soft bed with dull colors, a carefully folded blanket laid gently on top. Right next to the bed is a petit table, dark auburn, still with the ornamental carvings of roses on the sides. A brush of grey dust on the table dulled out its once reflective surface, effacing all life from the remains of the emptiness, covering up its shine. On the front is a small golden handle, connected to a drawer-like compartment. The handle is carved with a rose right in the middle. The paint has obviously been worn off and could see the faded bronze underneath, revealing its true face hidden under a mask. A tall, body height mirror stood by the worn out closet, dusted and bleak. But if you carefully run your palm over the surface, you will still be able to see the shine that it once gave, proudly with its golden rim. For only a moment, then it was no more.

The wooden door slowly creaked on its rusted hinges as it opened ajar. From the darkness, emerged a woman of young figure, carefully entering the ancient chamber. Her skin shone in ghostly white under the protruding moonlight from the battered windows. The ripples of her golden hair reflected the light and laid tamely on her back, following the pleasant curve her body offered and traced it down to her ass. Her fingers clutched onto a crumpled piece of memo. She hesitantly un-crumpled the tiny piece of memo. It read: The secret is buried in the rose. She quickly threw the paper aside and scanned the room with her eagle eyes. Then, her gaze fixed onto the table and leisurly strolled over. Her hand grabbed onto the handle and yanked it towards herself. A letter jerked out of the drawer and fell onto the wooden floor. She reached downwards and picked it up with a sleek smile. She had found it.

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Arabella stood uncladed in the kitchen, wearing only her translucent bra and thong. she held a small mug in her hand, her back arched back and her elbows rested on the counter. She tapped her foot impatiently as she impatiently waits for the coffee to brew. She had just gotten out of bed for half an hour, her silky hair is still dripping with wetness, straightenning her hair as it laid orderly around her long, ivory neck.

In her kitchen, there was barely anything. the fridge only had several bottles of milk and a can of soda. An apple, a box of chocolate, and a cup of sugar. On the side, the blank stove rested quietly on the counter, layered with dust. Cooking was not her best talent, she ate off the men every night anyways, why bother troubling herself? She always thought of cleaning this dog-pit of a house up one day, but she could never bring her body to do any of it. Perhaps i should get one of those cleaner ladies... The whistle blew as the coffee is ready, shattering her thoughts into pieces. She walked out onto her feathery couch and sat down, bring her peach lips to the brim of the mug. The feathers rubbed eroticaly against her bare skin as she sank into the softness of the seat.

Suddenly, she wants it again. Ever since the night two days ago with Jasper, she is still not satisfied. Perhaps its time to find another man? Another man, better than Jasper. His handy tricks had not filled her yet, so why bother with him anymore? He was good at the beginning, but then she got used to him, used to the feeling of his huge dick, sliding smoothly, in and out of her crotch. It no longer felt satisfying. yes. she wants more, more erratic, more pleasurable, more sensual.

Feeling the sensation, Arabella put down her mug and slowly wrapped her fingers around her breasts, sliding under her bra, twisting her nipples gently. She slowly unbuckled a strap and let it lay hanging down her chest, rubbing her palms against her round breasts. Then, slid her right hand into her thong and felt about the soft folds, teasing them by rubbing her finger around her sensitive area. She starts to purr softly and slid her finger tips into the hole. As she pushed it in slowly... Ding Dong! The bell rang in her dismay as she immediately pulled her hand out, leaving a light trail of silvery essence on her fingers.

"Who the fuck is it at this early in the morning. Do they know anything, ANYTHING at all about manners??" she stormed towards her door and opened it violently, "Who the fuck are YOU, this early in the morning, i am still asleep!" She spat at the person who stood amused in front of her.

She looked up and saw his face. Arabella slowly stepped back and gazed obsessively into his features. Her mouth dropped open from his beauty as he stared straight into her glittering amber eyes.

This is what i want....