("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
Archive name: Needfull.txt
Authors name: Jessa B. (Address Withheld)
Story Title : A Needful Things Story - Karen Hampton's Tale, by JessaB
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 1997. Please do not remove
the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post
freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commer-
cial sites. Thank you for your consideration.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Yadda yadda...under 18, go away...etc... The usual disclaimers apply
and of course tip the hat to Stephen King for writing the original and
creating Leland Gaunt. Now the movie was mediocre, but I still think
Gaunt looks like Max von Sydow.
Karen Hampton's Tale
--------------------
She had been out of work for so long, she was beginning to despair
of ever finding work anywhere. Ever since the City had cut down on
their museum staff, and tossed her, the Curator of their Egyptology
department, she had been looking for work.
Thankfully, she had seen it coming, and saved up money, and re-
duced her expenses. She had moved to the country, even though the drive
to the city tired her out, the cost of living was better, the house she
was renting was far cheaper than her city apartment. She had sold some
of her things, and so, she had a decent cushion when the ax fell. But,
she couldn't go on forever.
She tried secretarial work, but no one would hire her when she
told them about her last job, after all she was so damned overquali-
fied, they were sure she'd leave. She was getting desperate.
Then the new place opened. "Heart's Desire." She figured it was an
antiques and curios place. That was work she could probably get. She
got dressed and went over to the place.
There was a sign in the window. "Shop assistant wanted." She
thought that was just perfect. Shop Assistant sounded so very formal
and nice. She walked in.
He was talking to a customer, no, a workman who was supposed to
put up an awning for him. He seemed to be upset about something and
preoccupied. A customer walked in, the sort of person that might
actually spend money, but he was too busy dealing with the stupid
workman.
She walked over to the customer, saw what the woman was looking
at, described its origins to her, then walked her to the cash register
after the woman said she'd buy. The cash register was an antique
itself, not one of those awful computer things that she didn't under-
stand, so she reached under the counter, and picked up the stock book
(how had she instinctively known where it was?) and looked up the price
and took the woman's cheque, and wrapped her purchase.
The workman finally looked like he understood his instructions.
The man looked up, smiled at her, said, "You're hired, can you
start tomorrow?"
She looked at him. He was tall, thin, but very strong looking,
with utterly bottomless deep-blue-sea eyes. His look made her shiver
with unnamed delight. He was dressed formally, three-piece suit, very
well tailored. She was dressed plainly. White long-sleeved blouse,
black ankle length skirt, plain pumps. She took off her gloves and put
them under the counter, unpinned her hat and put it next to her gloves.
"I've all ready started. You look like you need the help."
It wouldn't occur to her for quite some time that they had never
discussed hours, or benefits or pay.
He would remember his reaction for many years to come. An
innocent, she was totally innocent. She had never even let a man kiss
her, and she had to be thirty, or more, although she didn't look older
than twenty. Totally untouched. Totally pure, totally corruptible.
Totally beautiful.
'Amazing," he thought. "The smell of innocence is so arousing, so
enticing.' He walked over behind the cash register.
"I suppose I should introduce myself, I am Leland Gaunt. Its a
pleasure to meet someone who knows the trade. I had despaired of find-
ing someone suitable until your arrival."
Before she could respond, he grasped her hand in his, as if to
shake it, but instead, he turned it up and planted a kiss in her palm.
And another on her wrist. She shuddered, and smiled. She had a beauti-
ful smile.
"I am Karen Hampton, Mr. Gaunt. So, do you need help unpacking
those boxes?"
He nodded. As she helped him unwrap the myriad items packed in
the crates, his hands frequently met hers over the box. It never oc-
curred to her to go and work on a different box, though. Then their
hands met on a velvet case.
He smiled at her. "Open it."
She did. There was a heart-shaped cameo on a blood-red velvet
ribbon. The cameo looked old and well loved, with the patina that came
from being worn regularly, and having been well cared for. She would
easily price it at five or six hundred dollars. It was beautiful.
He smiled at her. "Try it on, why don't you. It would look pretty
on you, I think."
She smiled at him and picked it up out of the box. She reached
back and fumbled as she tried to tie a bow in the ribbon behind her
neck. Her fingers simply would not work properly. She had never been
so clumsy before. Also, the cameo kept snagging on her collar. He
looked at her.
"You might want to at least un-do the top button, it would make
it easier to get the ribbon around your throat." She turned away from
him and followed his instruction, undoing not one, but two buttons on
her blouse. The cameo still snagged. She looked at him and laughed
helplessly. "May I?"
"Of course, Mr. Gaunt."
"Please, if we're to work together, it should be Leland, my dear.
And you must, of course, be Karen."
She smiled shyly this time, and blushed.
He had not felt this way in nearly a century. He wanted her. Not
just to corrupt, but to have, to take. He had a need that had not been
sated in decades. He had seduced and corrupted many a beautiful woman,
but this one, this one, was the first that he felt for. The first that
made him desire, that damnmit-all made him hard.
He had thought he was beyond all that foolishness. He wanted to
strip her clothes from her and fuck her. To take her and use her for
his most perverse and perverted pleasures, here, now, and forget the
long-range plans.
But, no, he was stronger than that. He would take her, yes. But
by the time he was finished Karen would be utterly and completely his.
And her soul would be forfeit to his lust for all eternity. He. Would.
Wait.
He came around behind her, and took the ribbon ends from her
hands. Bringing them around behind her neck, he tied them gently,
letting the cameo fall against her throat. He smiled as he felt the
electric shock of the contact. As always the contact made the recipient
dream of their fantasies, and as always he could watch the dream. It
was an easy way to target a victim, learning their most secret desires
in a moment's touch.
He nearly laughed. Oh, she really was an innocent. He would have
to do something about that. He saw the scene in her mind. She wanted
to marry him. The whole business at a fancy church (as if he would be
caught dead in a church), in a white dress. And damn if she didn't
actually want a house with a bloody white picket fence. It was too
silly for words. How could this woman exist in the present world, so
innocent and pure. Even in her fantasies.
He let his hands fall to her shoulders, exerting a gentle pressure
against her. He pulled her back toward him, until she was leaning
against his chest, and whispered into her ear.
"Now, Karen, if you're going to wear that cameo, you need to find
a blouse that shows it off. Something that bares your lovely throat."
She shuddered against him, but did not pull away, he was exerting
that particular power of his, that deadly persuasion.
"In fact, lovely Karen, that blouse covers far too much."
If Karen had gone to the door, she would have been surprised that
a sign had suddenly appeared, stating that the store was not yet open
for business, and that the door was suddenly locked. But she did not
go to the door, and those things were far from her mind as she leaned
her body against his.
"Karen, that blouse covers far too much." he whispered again.
He smiled into her hair as she reached up and began to unbutton
it. He risked taking things too fast because he wanted her so badly.
She began to unbutton her blouse a little more. He smiled again and
looked down over her shoulder. She had barely undone the top few but-
tons. He reached across her shoulders and pulled her collar open,
smoothing the fabric down to the top button, exposing her cleavage,
running a finger over the top of her breast.
"More, Karen, show me your breasts, I want to touch them."
She undid the rest of the blouse, still leaning against him. She
was in a dazed fog, she had no conscious knowledge of what she was
doing, yet.
"Take it off, Karen, let me see you. Show me."
She moaned as if she were dreaming, but obeyed, and slid the
blouse off her smooth shoulders.
He ran his hands down her arms, helping her slide the sleeves off
her hands. The bared flesh was warm and soft. If he wasn't certain that
it would break his spell on her, he would have bitten her, pinched her,
done something to mark that perfect skin. She was too perfect. He would
have to whip her when he was done, yes, that would do. Perfection gal-
led him. She would be his willing wanton yet.
"Karen," he whispered, with just a little disappointment colouring
his tone, that studied disappointment of an unhappy Master, "Karen, I
told you that I wanted to see your breasts."
She reached back between them, she was still leaning against him,
and unfastened her bra.
He smiled and slid the straps over her shoulder, running his hands
down her until they slid under the fabric and her bra fell away from
her. His strong, long fingered hands, covered her breasts perfectly, as
he rubbed his palms over her.
She gasped and moaned and writhed back against him as her nipples
hardened with lust, and he knew that her cunt was becoming moist with
desire. He removed his hands from her.
"Tell me what you want, Karen. You may be innocent, but you are
not ignorant. Tell me what you want, Karen." He stepped back away from
her body.
"Please....please....please...." she moaned, stepping back, trying
to regain contact with him.
"What do you want Karen? Please, what, Karen?"
"Touch me, touch me again. Please touch me again."
"Where? What do you want me to do Karen?" He reached out and
stroked her arm. "What do you want?"
"Please touch me again," she stammered, blushing as scarlet as
the ribbon around her throat, "Please touch my breasts again," she
finally gasped out.
"Really? Is that what you want?"
"Yes, please, please, please, touch me again."
His mind reached out to hers, planted a thought, 'Wanton harlot.
You are nothing but a wanton harlot, and should not pretend to be what
you are not.'
Out loud he said, "You want what?" his voice colder and more
wickedly sexual.
She shivered as the thoughts ran through her, he understood what
was happening. Her innocent nature was at war with him. He was moulding
her into something that she was not inclined to be. She was fighting
the desires welling up in her. The heat stirring in her heart. The
struggle was brief, but difficult. If he lost hold of her now, he would
have to leave this town and go elsewhere, because he would be wanted
for at minimum sexual harassment, oh, what a wonderful term. Sexual
harassment. He loved the idea of it. He won. He saw it in her eyes.
Heard it in her voice.
"Please, please stroke my tits again, please, please...."
He stepped up against her again, and pulled her toward him, her
back resting against him, and he ran his hands up her hips, her waist,
and then grasped her breasts, and began to stroke them, rolling her
nipples in his fingers until they were hard and so sensitive that a
touch made her shiver.
He planted another thought, pain is pleasure, pleasure is pain,
and then while stroking her nipples, brought his fingers together,
pinching her, hard. He sent a flash of power between her thighs, forc-
ing her to cum, as he pinched her. Holding her back with every caress,
letting her have her pleasure only when his wicked fingers clasped
against her. Pain is pleasure, and pleasure is pain.
Since they were alone, he made her work the rest of the afternoon
with her blouse off.
Occasionally, he would reach out and stroke her, or bring her to
climax with a pinch. She became more forward as the afternoon wore on.
Finally, while she finished with a box of small figurines, he went
over and sat down in an armchair to watch her. She still wasn't ready
to strip for him and beg for him to fuck her, to defile her, to take
her. But it was a start.
When she finished her work, he beckoned her over to him, and had
her sit on his lap. He kissed her lips, and carressed her breasts, then
had her dress and go home. It was around seven o'clock.
For some reason, Karen decided that she had to go shopping before
she went home. She drove into the nearby city. Well, it was hard to
call it a city, but it was larger than the town she lived in and had a
mall.
She went in and found a shop that sold women's clothes. She looked
around until she found a scoop-necked dress with a flared skirt. It was
a knit fabric, so that it had some give in it, with a bit of elastic
woven in to keep the shape of it. She tried it on, and for some reason,
left her bra off.
She had nice breasts, the sort that didn't need much support, so
the dress looked nice on her. Then she looked in the mirror and in her
dream mind she sensed hands on her, she reached down the front of the
dress and pulled it down to see if she could wear it with her breasts
exposed. If it could be pulled down easily to expose her. She smiled.
It could.
She bought three of them, one black, one white and one blood red.
She went home to bed, and undressed, for some reason she wanted
to sleep nude. She had never done that before and it felt strange to
her. In the morning, she showered, and dressed, she wore the black
dress with the cameo around her neck. In fact she hadn't realized she
was still wearing the cameo until she had gotten into the shower. She
had to take it off to keep the ribbon from getting soaked, and she
felt a loss when she did. She showered quickly and put it back on as
soon as she was dry.
She went to work. The sign saying the store was not yet open was
still in the door, but the door was open, so she walked in.
His voice greeted her, "Karen, lock the door, otherwise, inquisi-
tive people will be walking in all day." She locked the door.
He took her into the back room, and they began to unpack more
boxes. He smiled to himself. She looked exquisite. So lovely, it
actually made him ache.
One part of him said, "Fuck her right now, forget about her soul,
take her body and pleasure yourself."
The other side said, "One moment of carnal pleasure versus an
eternity of tormenting her...choose." He chose. Immediacy could wait.
But, still he would have his fun.
"Karen, what did I tell you yesterday about wanting to see you?"
She smiled shyly, but didn't hesitate to pull the front of the
dress down. He rewarded her quick response by reaching out and pinching
her. She came. He smiled. She worked the rest of the day with her
beautiful breasts exposed.
The next day when she came in, she locked the door, walked into
the back room, smiled at him, and pulled the top of the white dress
down before he said a word. He pulled her into his arms and bent his
head to her, kissed her face, her lips, her throat, trailed his tongue
down her shoulder, and across to her breast, and rolling his tongue
over her nipple, he bit down.
This was the first real test. Would she wake from the dream and
scream, or would she wake from the dream and pull him closer? She came
and pulled his head down to herself, moaning delightfully, she kissed
his hair.
"Karen, what do you want?"
"You. I want you."
He sent her a wickedly carnal day dream, all the depraved things
a man could do to a woman, "What do you want?" Then he took the gamble
and jumped, "Look at me. No, better yet look at yourself," he turned
her to face a mirror, let her see herself, dressed like a harlot, with
her breasts exposed and the marks of his bite across her.
"So, whore, what do you want?"
She looked up at him, and her response grabbed him by the heart
and squeezed. "I am not a whore, what I give you I give you for free."
"Freely, you swear it? Are you certain? Do you have any idea what
you're doing?"
He sent her a vision of eternal depravity and sexual torment. A
vision of her writhing in unfulfilled ecstasy. Eternally his. He smiled
his true smile. All the fearsome power. He reached out and took her
hand in his and kissed her palm, and this time bit down. Hard. Drawing
blood.
She looked down at her hand, with the detached vision of someone
who is outside herself. She reached up and put her palm to his lips.
"Yes, I know what I'm doing. Free will. Even I have free will.
But this blood will seal nothing. There is only one blood which will
seal this."
And for one moment he actually knew fear. There was something
subtly different about her, something that he should recognize, but
didn't. He looked at her, she looked even more beautiful than the day
he met her.
He reached up and ripped the dress from her. She took off her
shoes and stockings, and was naked before of him.
'Only one blood, to seal this.'
"Say it, I want to hear it from your own lips." Somehow, he knew
that he must make her ask for it, if he took her without her consent,
he would fail. He would lose her forever.
"Fuck me."
He smiled at her, sent a brief thought to her, and she smiled
back.
"Fuck me, Master. Fuck me hard, fuck me like a harlot, like a
tramp, rip me open with your marvelous cock, and fuck me until I cannot
walk and you have to carry me. Take me, use me, fuck me."
He was on her in an instant, she was clawing at his belt, at the
zipper in his trousers, her hips bucking wildly, begging for him with
her legs spread like a slut.
He smiled down at her, "So, are you wet and waiting for me? Touch
yourself until you're wet."
Her hands slid between her thighs and she fondled herself, rubbing
harder and harder, failing to find release, failing to find that com-
forting warmth and wetness that would make this easier on her.
He knew, and he wanted her that way. He wanted to take her in pain.
The more it hurt her, the better it would be. She was as dry as the
desert and he knew it. He would honor her every wish, he would rip her
open and take her like the harlot she was.
She understood his plan. She gave up on the zipper and simply rip-
ped his trousers open.
He smiled. "Go over to the table and lay yourself over it. Face-
down like a slut."
She did as he asked and he came behind her and with one knife-like
thrust, he was inside her. He pounded her roughly, the lack of lubri-
cation made her scream with every stroke. Finally he stiffened against
her and suddenly the pressure eased, as she felt him spill his seed on
her back. Even in the moment of his triumph, her virgin blood staining
his cock, he would not give her pleasure. She moaned against the table.
Suddenly he was thrusting against her virgin ass. Pounding her as
she screamed even louder. She threw her head back and screamed in ec-
stasy and pain, as he kept his promise to rip her open. He was like a
burning brand, a hot fireplace poker. She was sure that she was on
fire, that she would be burned when it was over. Again he came across
her back.
Then he kept his promise to himself, and marked up her perfect
flesh with his belt, her back, her delightfully used ass. He looked at
her and smiled and pulled out a chair.
"You should rest, my dear. Here, sit down." She gasped at him, the
chair was wooden. She understood. She sat down gingerly, he put his
hand on her shoulder and pressed her down. "I said 'sit'." She moaned
again as her bruised ass hit the chair.
He used her all night. Carrying her to the bed, when she could no
longer stand up over the table. And as morning came he smiled down at
her and ran his hand over her breast and pinched her, hard. The orgasm
she had would last her for a century at least.
Which was a good thing, because it might be her last for at least
that long. Unless he was in a particularly good mood.
Suddenly the lights went out as if the power had been turned off
for a moment. It seemed as if it was midnight. For one second, it felt
as if the world went dark. And he looked at her, and looked up and
smiled triumphantly. Heaven had lost one more daughter to sin.
He pinched her again, and in the utter joy his new acquisition
had given him, he fucked her hot wetness, like a lover, for her plea-
sure. And when he spilled his seed inside her, he heard the storm
breaking. Yes. Another child of mine will walk the world soon.
This time he had won. The odds went in his favor. Next time he
might not be so lucky, but that was the way the battle was fought, one
soul at a time. Karen would live a long full life at his side, and take
her place in hell when she died. He was happy.
He looked at a map and picked his next destination. Suddenly the
boxes were packed, and it was time to leave. She bathed, dressed. How
did her red dress get into the shop? She would never figure out that
part, but she put it on. As he helped her into the car, she smiled at
him, and leaned over and kissed him.
-----------------------------
The Someplace Daily Chronicle
some month, someday, somewhen
-----------------------------
The local police are at a loss in locating Miss Karen Hampton.
The young lady was discovered missing last Friday, when a friend of
hers tried to contact her, with what was apparently a job offer. Miss
Hampton's car, purse, and property all seem to be intact. There is no
outward evidence of foul play, but it is not believed that Miss Hampton
ran away, because she took no money, clothing or even food, that can be
discerned. As of now the FBI has been called and the case is being
considered a kidnapping. No ransom has been demanded.
The photo that appeared was curiously blurred, and not even the
best attempts of the police artist to sketch her came close to what
she looked like. Soon, she was forgotten, by all but a few townspeople
who always remembered the weird happenings.
* the end
for now *
Jessa -- the weird greedy wicked obsessed insatiable depraved one
JessaB@aol.com
JessaB@pig.net
___________________________________________________________________
Kristen's collection - Directory 5