Tainted Love 3

Liam found the tiny little stall down at the end of a long, crooked alley on the edge of a ratty, infrequently-frequented bazaar in a part of town that had seen better days. Really, he wasn't surprised that he'd never heard of it, despite the revolutionary nature of its products. The salesman obviously didn't care much about finding new business.

Liam would never have found the place if he hadn't been wandering the streets in a daze, but then again, he probably never would have needed to. He'd just been walking without even looking where he was going, letting his feet take him wherever they wanted, while his brain continued to relive the worst moment of his life. The moment when Charlotte told him she didn't love him.

"It's not that I don't like you," she said in his head as he relived it all over again. "You're a very sweet man, and I...I'm sure we'll always be fast friends." She practically had tears in her liquid, expressive eyes, hurt at having to hurt someone she cared about (but not in that way.) "It's just that...I don't feel the same way about you that you do about me, Liam. It wouldn't be fair to either one of us to try to make a relationship work that way." Her hands were trembling as she continued restocking books. "You know I care about you, but...I just don't love you. Not like that."

Maybe Charlotte wasn't capable of loving anyone like that. She was shy, demure, sweetly pretty and innocent in a way that made Liam want to sweep her up in his arms and hold her safe against the world...but maybe people like that didn't fall in love. Maybe they just had cats. Maybe Charlotte would never give her heart away. He almost hoped so. He couldn't bear it if she gave it away to someone else. He couldn't bear it now, working so close to her at the library and knowing he'd never be able to touch her, never be able to stroke her soft blonde hair, gaze longingly into her deep blue eyes and see his love returned...and so he just walked up and down the streets, little caring where he went or what happened to him, and he eventually wound up down at the end of a long, crooked alley where the crowds never went, staring up at a hand-lettered sign saying, 'Emotions'.

Below the sign, an elderly man sat on a stool, occasionally taking sips from a deep green bottle. More bottles lined the shelves behind him, each one a different shade of green, each one unlabeled and stoppered with a cork. The man himself wore faded, but elegant clothes, and although he had very few hairs remaining, those he did have were elegantly combed. He fixed Liam with a piercing gaze through bifocal spectacles, and said, "Women troubles?"

Liam stopped short. "It's no business of yours, sir, not to be rude."

The man grinned. "Ah, but it's exactly a business of mine. It is, in fact, the business of mine." He pointed up at the sign. "'Emotions', right? My name is Emery St. Lune de Clair, Esquire, but that's a bit of a mouthful so I'm generally just known as 'Em'. And trust me when I say that it was Fate that steered you down this alleyway to my little shop. Because I have the answer to all your problems."

Liam frowned. "Nobody has an answer to my problems."

"Oh, but I tell you I do," Em said, leaning forward on his stool. "'Emotions' is the name of my shop, and emotions are what I sell. The bottles behind me contain pure emotion, bottled and stoppered and available for purchase. I've sold Sorrow to men who have to appear sad at the death of a rival, Joy to housewives, Hate to soldiers, and I assure you, sir, you are not the first person who wished they could buy Love, and you will not be the last."

Liam rolled his eyes. "And I also wouldn't be the first person to be fooled by a fake 'love potion', nor would I be the last. Excepting, you understand, that I won't. Because I have no intention of buying any 'love potions' from you."

Em spun on his stool, grabbed a bottle from the shelf, grabbed another, and spun back. "Sir, I take no offense at your blatant slander of my wares, and do you know why? Because I have heard the cries of men such as you speak about, men who sell frauds and fakeries and prey upon the gullible. I am accustomed to calumnies and slurs upon my honor as a salesman, but they worry me not. And why? Because I speak the unvarnished truth. And I can prove it." He withdrew a tiny glass from underneath the counter, and poured the tiniest quantity of liquid from one of the two bottles into it. "This, sir, is a sample of my wares, a pure bottled emotion. Drink this, sir, and I guarantee you, you will believe my words."

Liam reached for the cup. "Is it 'Essence of Gullibility', perhaps?" he asked sarcastically. Still, he eyed the liquid and shrugged. The quantity was so small, he assumed that he would be able to weather whatever effects it had upon him. With a gulp, he downed it all.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, a memory from his childhood struck him. It had been a long time, but the warm sweetness of the summer sun felt like a physical presence as he thought back to a day, twenty years past, of overturning rocks for worms, bending a fish-hook out of a safety pin, and catching a two-pound trout on a piece of string. His friends and family had been amazed at the size of the creature, wriggling on the end of the improvised hook, and they had eaten fresh fish that night...

With a pang of loss, the memory faded again. "That, sir, was pure Nostalgia. I wouldn't recommend indulging in it too often, though. It's always dangerous to live in the past. Especially," and he wiggled the other bottle in his hand, "when the future suddenly seems to be looking up."

Liam gaped, open-mouthed, at the bottle. "How much?"

"Depends on the young lady in question. If she already likes you, I'd say you shouldn't need more than half the bottle. If she doesn't know you exist, you'll probably need the full dose. If she can't stand the sight of you, buy a second bottle just to be safe. Make sure she's looking at you when she drinks it, or she might wind up with some other young man."

Liam stammered out, "I--I meant price. How much? For the bottle, that is. I'll only need the one. Or the half."

Emery scratched his chin. "Seeing as how you're a downtrodden man, I'll call it a bargain. Five hundred dollars."

Liam didn't even attempt to bargain. He practically flung a handful of bills at Em, snatched the bottle away, and ran down the alley with wings of love on his feet.

*****

He arrived back at the library just after closing time. His key let him in, and thankfully Charlotte was still refiling the periodicals before going home for the night. "Oh!" she said with a start. "I hadn't expected you to return so soon. I thought you might have wanted a bit of time to...to think."

Liam smiled. "I've done all the thinking I need to do," he said. "You were honest with me, and no man can demand more than the truth of the heart. Come have a cup of tea with me, as a friend."

Grateful for his kind response, Charlotte couldn't help but agree. When he offered to make the tea while she finished up, she blushed slightly and thanked him for his kindness. He stepped into the small lounge reserved for librarians, and made them each a cup of tea--and to hers, he added slightly more than a half a bottle of pure Love.

After a few minutes, she joined him in the lounge, and he gestured to her cup while picking up his own. Not trusting himself to speak, he simply drank his tea in silence while watching her.

After her first few sips, it seemed as though a light filled her eyes. By the time she had finished the drink, she was breathing hard, her hands simply could not keep still, and the light that had seemed to fill her eyes now suffused her whole body. He smiled at her, gently, and she smiled at him in return. She opened her mouth, closed it again, opened it once more but this time put her hand in front of it, then finally removed her hand. Liam waited patiently for her first words of sweet, gentle love.

"Get your pants off," she said. "I want to see that pretty little ass of yours."

Liam blinked in shock, scarcely able to comprehend the words he'd heard, let alone their presence in the mouth of an angel like Charlotte. Charlotte, for her part, took her chair and wedged it under the doorknob of the door to the lounge. "Just in case someone tries to come in," she said. "I don't have any intention of being interrupted before I'm done with you."

Liam stammered, "I--Charlotte--that is--are you feeling alright?"

She smiled. "I'm feeling wonderful, Liam." She walked back over to where he sat. "But I'm not pleased that you haven't gotten those pants off yet." She grabbed his tie and pulled him to his feet with a strength he scarcely thought possible from her. "Perhaps you need me to give that pretty little ass a paddling before you understand that when I say I want something, I want it now." She reached down and gave his trousers a sharp yank, pulling them down.

"Charlotte," Liam said, looking down then up as if unsure what demanded his attention more, "something's--I mean, you never--"

"You're right, Liam," Charlotte said as she took her own clothes off. "I did never. I never noticed you, I never understood what I was capable of, I never saw how sweet it could be to have you kneeling before Me, your gentle breath on My pussy..." She curled her fingers into his dark hair, and yanked hard, driving him forward onto his knees. "I think I'll make up for lost time now."

Liam tried to speak, to again protest at her sudden change in personality, but his voice was muffled as she pressed his face against her womanhood. "Now, lick," she said. "Do a very good job, and I might just forget about the spanking you so richly deserve."

Liam's face flushed red, and with some effort, he pulled away just enough to speak. "Darling..." he said.

She pulled his hair back, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Mistress."

"Of--of course. Mistress...perhaps we should do this somewhere less public? Your apartment, perhaps, or mine? It...doing this here, in the library, it doesn't seem..."

She grinned, a lustful parody of her former sweet smile. "You'll grow used to it," she said. "I plan on using you every day, right here in the library. Perhaps I'll conceal a few toys, fuck your pretty little ass right here in the lounge..." She saw the frightened look in his eyes. "But we'll work our way up to that," she said. "For now, I'll let you have your way--but expect a punishment for contradicting your Mistress, My sweet slave. Meet Me at My apartments in four hours." She pulled her dress back on, leaving her undergarments on the floor. "I have some shopping to do."

Liam pulled his clothes back on.

Me too,

he added silently.

Me too.

*****

When he returned to the crooked alley, he half-expected the shop to be gone, just like the phantom stores in the children's tales. But the little stall was there, and Emery was just locking it up for the evening. When he saw Liam coming, though, he paused in his work.

"Back for something more already, sir?" he asked. "Perhaps a bit of Acceptance for the parents, or just a dram of Lust for those special occasions?"

Liam slammed the green bottle down on the counter. "I want to know what you did to Charlotte, sir! She's gone mad! Your 'Love' has transformed her from a sweet and gentle maid to a wanton whore and a brazen trollop! Tell me what is in this, sir, or I'll--I'll--"

Em picked up the bottle. "Calm down, sir, calm down. All that's in this," he said, holding up the bottle to the fading sunlight, "is the purest, simplest love that--oh." He bit gently at his lower lip.

"'Oh'?" Liam was red with anger now. "Is that all you can say? 'Oh'? What does 'oh' mean?"

Emery rubbed his head, disturbing the few remaining hairs. "Well, it looks like this particular bottle isn't quite pure." He held up the bottle again. "See the little black specks in there? That's a touch of Pride, a slight dash of Lust, a tiny bit of Perversion, and a speck or two of Ambition. She loves you, alright, but..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "She's going to be very particular about how she expresses that love. Might be a bit of a shock, sir, if she was as delicate a woman as you say."

"Oh. A bit of a shock. Yes, I see. That describes it perfectly, doesn't it? Charlotte behaves like--like--she does things I can't even describe to you, sir, and all you can say is that it's a 'bit of a shock'? What the devil do you plan to do about it?"

Em looked down at his shoes for a long moment. "Well, I'm only the seller--the problem is in the draught, sir, which is the fault of the bottler. Now, I can put you in touch with the man who does that, but I'll warn you now he's a temperamental man...and I use 'man' in the purely metaphorical sense. He's not one to suffer complaints lightly. Even if you do catch him in a good mood, the best he'll be able to do is undo the effects of the potion, leaving you in the same boat you were in when you came to me. Before you try that, I suggest this." He reached back onto the shelves, and pulled out another green bottle. "Have her drink the full bottle of this, and I think that you'll be happier with the results than you might have imagined. And, since you've had such a hard day, I think I can give this to you at a substantial discount. Only a thousand dollars."

Liam bristled with fury. "You're charging me for it?"

Em had the decency to compose his features into a sympathetic expression. "When a man needs a life preserver, sir, it doesn't become him to ask questions of his rescuer. It's a rare and precious emotion I'm selling you, sir, and during a time when I have you over a barrel. Consider it a mark of our true friendship and my sincere regret that I'm letting you have it so cheap."

Liam snarled, but pulled out his wallet and slammed another bill onto the table. He grabbed the bottle, and stalked off without another word.

*****

When Liam arrived at Charlotte's apartments, four and a half hours had passed since they parted at the library. The moment he arrived at her rooms, he could tell she wasn't happy.

She had found an outfit of dark red leather, one which clung to her like a second skin. It wasn't simply immodest, it was the antithesis of modesty--her breasts and womanhood were totally exposed, the leather cunningly worked to leave those most shocking parts of the anatomy open to the air. She held a riding crop in her hand, and her expression was one that suggested she'd been hoping he would transgress her latest commands. "You're late," she said, a wicked grin on her face. "Get your clothes off and get into the position for punishment."

Liam held out the bottle. "I--I'm sorry I was late, er, Mistress. I was procuring you a..." he thought fast. "A tribute! This rare cordial, for your pleasure."

She took it from his hand. "Thank you, slave," she said, removing the cork. "Don't think this gets you off the hook, though." She drained a gulp of the bottle. "I'm still planning to redden that sweet...sweet..." She shook her head as if to clear it, and drained another draught of the liquid. "I..." With a shudder, she gulped the rest of the fluid down. "Amazing, pet. Amazing."

Liam watched her carefully. "Do you feel...different?"

She closed her eyes for a long moment. "I do. I feel...I..." She opened her eyes--no, Her eyes--again and fixed them on Liam, and it was as though he had gazed into a newborn star. "I feel amazing," She said. She stepped forward, radiating power and majesty. Liam dropped to his knees, struck by Her beauty as though he was in the presence of a god. Perhaps, he thought absently, he was.

"You're still wearing clothes," She said, and Liam ripped three buttons getting them off as fast as he could. "Good boy."

Liam fell to his hands and knees, his penis hard as a rock, and begged for the crop. She smiled down at him--and how could he have ever seen that as anything but perfect? Her smile made him felt desirable, wanton, aroused and helpless like he belonged to Her, and he understood now how true that was... She stepped forward and slashed the crop down in a single stroke, and he shivered with a potent mixture of pleasure and pain. "Count for Me," she said.

"...one..." he gasped out. She reached down with Her other hand and gently stroked his flesh, then whipped the crop down again. "...two..." Every stroke of the crop made him whimper, but he managed to keep the count as She brought the crop down again and again, punishing him so sweetly...he gasped in pleasure just from knowing that She was pleased with Her pet.

When She had reddened his cheeks to Her satisfaction, She sat down in the room's only chair and beckoned him forward with Her legs spread. He eagerly crawled forward, and this time She needed no hands on his head to press his face into Her pussy. He licked ravenously at her flesh, circling Her clit again and again with his tongue, licking deep into Her wonderful pussy and feeling Her sweet juices run out onto his tongue as She came again and again. The perfect scent of Her womanhood made him swoon, but he was already on his knees. All he wanted to do was please Her. All he could do was please Her.

Finally, She allowed him to stand. "Stroke yourself," She said, and he could not help but obey. "That's right--your cock is Mine, now, Liam. I control its pleasure, I control its needs, I control you." liam gasped helplessly with arousal, gazing at Mistress Charlotte's beauty like a desert dweller looking upon an oasis. "I am a merciful and loving Mistress, so I will give you pleasure, but you must understand that it is mine to give." liam stroked faster now, panting with need. "I am your Mistress, and you are My pet, My slave, My obedient plaything, and simply knowing that gives you pleasure. Now, slave..." She leaned back to watch... "Come for Me." With a final tortured moan, liam's cock shot semen all over Charlotte's feet and legs.

"This will be the way of it between us from now on, liam," she said. "Your thoughts on that?"

Liam lay on the floor, gently kissing Her feet. "i live to please You, Mistress," he said.

*****

The next morning, Em opened his shop as usual. Yesterday had been a good one as far as he was concerned. Got rid of the last of that tainted batch of Love, sold some Charisma, and it seemed like that boy would be another satisfied customer.

Or at least, he thought as he swigged a bit more of his usual blend of Amorality and Cynicism, one who wouldn't bother him again.

THE END