The Voice in the Dar

The Voice in the Dark

Chapter Two

By Ravenna933

Author's Note

Hello again Everyone.

I am so happy to be back again after such a long absence. I can definitely say that my creativity is returning and I am excited to share the next chapter in Jess' adventure for you to enjoy. Thank you for your patience.

These last few months have been difficult to say the least. There have been many dark days for us all in this terrible time but I can honestly say this has been the worst of it, and better times are coming.

This, on top of other issues, has sapped my creativity and left me quite unable to finish my story in the way I wanted. I say this not to make excuses, but rather to give you reasons as to my delay. I wanted to bring you only the best, and sometimes that cannot be done immediately.

Firstly, I wouldn't be a very good writer if I didn't thank my wonderful BETA readers and editors who have so generously given up their time to help me. Their names are listed as follows:

Darrenr

,

That'sbogus

,

TexRiffraff

,

Nell'sKitchen

,

Xenos2020

,

and many others I am not be able to mention here but I acknowledge all the hard work you have done in making my story what it is. I cannot stress enough just how important you guys are to the creative process. Thank you so much.

Secondly, like I mentioned before, whilst this story may seem like it skirts the line between consent and non-consent, remember that this type of kink is entirely voluntary in real life.

I don't condone any kind of awful behaviour that comes from practitioners of this kink.

Remember that submission is based on consent and desire. Without that consent, it is not real submission and therefore hypnosis cannot really take place.This kind of submission is done in a non-judgemental environment and with someone who is responsible.

Finally, understand that the type of writing I enjoy is the kind that attempts to push the boundaries of what is considered acceptable. Of course, the line is never fully crossed but it comes very close. I want to write about the depths of human desire and how we respond to it in ways we are not fully conscious of.

Thank you for reading this and I really hope you enjoy the next chapter. I welcome all comments, and criticisms.

All the best.

Ravenna

I wake with a start and stare around the pitch blackness of my bedroom with my heart feeling like it is pounding out of my chest and my eyes struggling to adjust. I take deep breaths as I feel the small of my back against the cushions and the delightful heat of the blankets. My pulse begins to slow, and my heartbeat returns to a restful rhythm as I count backwards from 100 slowly. I've finally managed to sleep deeply, and well, after months of deprivation:

Now I'm wondering what the catch is

.

I check the clock and see that it's exactly 4:30 AM, four hours before I have to be up and into the office. I notice there's no alarm set on my phone, and, feeling surprised, I programme one into it then check for any messages I may have missed in the time I slept. I distinctly remember going to bed at 9:00, but that doesn't explain what happened in the time before I went to bed and after I came home from work. As I pull the duvet off of me, I catch sight of my kimono robe on the floor and my work clothes from the previous day carelessly strewn about. Armed with the light from my phone's torch, I scoop them off the floor before flinging them into the little laundry basket near my wardrobe. I frown at this out of character behaviour and am even more unnerved when I find that I haven't picked out my clothes for the next day.

As I pull out a silk shirt and pencil skirt, then go in search of my handbag, I wonder why this lack of preparedness bothers me so much. I have never forgotten such basic things in the past and therefore have never worried that I would forget them. They were as ingrained in my routine as brushing my teeth or going to the supermarket on Saturdays.

I was a calm, quiet creature of habit, even when jet-setting off to numerous destinations in my life. My old routines had a way of settling me, grounding me. Like, no matter how strange or scary a new place seemed, doing these simple things would help me to find my own way of living that could distract from the feelings of being out at sea.

I then feel a clawing pain in my stomach, and realise that I'm hungry. Even more so than normal, and I am always willing to stuff my face with something yummy. I don't even care that it's 4:30 in the morning, and I head into the kitchen and pour myself a bowl of cereal and a glass of apple juice.

As I sit at the breakfast bar, I'm still unable to shift this sense of unease at how unlike my life this is. I haven't analysed this strange new feeling at all, it hasn't felt right to, but now it is beginning to bother me in a way that I can't even admit to myself, let alone Lucy.

Lucy

.

My mind returns to the strange events when I returned home from work last night and I feel a deep throb in my pussy at the thought. Her hands on my body, and her mouth on my breasts. I put down my spoon and go in search of her, momentarily panicking. I look to her partially open bedroom door, a habit she has never quite gotten around to tackling, and see her sleeping peacefully on top of her blue cotton bedsheets. Her bedroom is a mess at the best of times and it used to bother me that her room was so messy when she was sleeping in there. Yet strangely, her messiness only ever extended to her room. She kept every bit of space, except for hers, clean.

I then begin to recall a conversation we once had.

"Jess, it's like you have OCD, or something. Being clean is written into your DNA." Lucy straddled my naked body while she was fully clothed, and started tickling me mercilessly. Payback for giving her shit about her messiness.

I laughed and squirmed away from her as best I could while being pinned underneath.

"Luce. Stop it. You're really gonna do this for--- making you--- acknowledge that your--- room is a mess?" I collapsed into fits of giggles, the intensity increasing every second.

Lucy stared into my eyes hard and bit her lip as she watched me writhe under her torturous fingers. They then began to move down from my chest and stomach, to down between my legs and back up again. Her fingers were so dainty and yet so precise in their mission, they looked to me as if they would never stop.

She then suddenly moved her hands to the side and lowered herself towards my face, looking straight into my eyes as I began to calm down and breathe normally.

"Are you going to be a Good Girl and not mention the mess again, Jess?" She asks with a look like she was only half joking. She was waiting for the moment where I conceded, not that I ever would.

"But your room is seriously messy, how come it's only your room that's messy and yet you tell me off when I mess up the kitchen or the living room for even a second?"

I laughed at how charming her weirdness was.

She didn't answer, instead, she parted my legs wide and bent her head lower so she could watch me from between them. She then stuck out the full length of her tongue before letting it slide from the entrance of my pussy to the very tip of my clit, languidly and with obvious pleasure. I moaned at how skilled her tongue was and I squirmed as best I could, but she wouldn't let me move.

"Well... now I will show you what happens when you're a bad girl..." Lucy said, before I feel her hands, then her soft mouth, and the full power of her wicked tongue.

I stand in the doorframe and marvel at how wonderful, and sexy, Lucy is. She's truly a blessing to me, even if she is ridiculously messy. I then silently close her door most of the way, remembering how much she hates being shut in completely, and I return to the kitchen. I am far too well-rested to go back to bed and yet I don't have the energy to go out for a walk. Lucy would kill me for going out alone in New York so early in the morning, so I settle for our small balcony.

In New York, space comes at premium, and so I enjoy this little piece of heaven, however small. It was always my dream to live in an apartment that had the biggest, most beautiful view of Central Park, and for a while, I had that living in my stepdad's vacation home in central Manhattan. Luxurious though it was, I never felt at home there and I wanted something a lot more subtle and cozy than a grand, modern penthouse.

I remember in the early days when Lucy came over to my stepfather's place before we both decided to find somewhere on our own. She was living in a tiny one-bedroom flat on Staten Island, nowhere near the action. She was lonely and desperately unhappy about leaving her high school sweetheart for the bright lights of

The Big Apple

right after college.

Finding each other made such a difference in our lives that it seemed like the right thing to do. While she came to live with me temporarily for company, we both looked and looked for the perfect place within our budgets until we FINALLY found our gem of an apartment in Red Hook. Small, but comfortable and with a lot of character. I don't miss the wealth and glamour of the Upper West Side one bit.

I sit on the balcony and stare at the pitch-black sky peppered with tiny stars. In a place so heavily lit and busy as New York, seeing them up close is a rare thing and so I take pleasure in what little I can see. I contemplate all that has happened in the last twenty-four hours as well as the last few weeks and months.

Even when my mind turns to my breakup, it doesn't floor me in the way that it used to. In fact, I feel strangely removed from it now, like it happened in another time, another world. Yes, I shall always wonder why Justin left, and miss what we once had, but I seem like a different person than I was even three months ago.

My thoughts drift back to the day Justin and I met. It was on the Brooklyn Bridge, while staring at the water from the East River below us. He kept looking at me when he thought I was too shy to look back and his smile made me blush bright red. I bit my lip and tried not to giggle like a schoolgirl as I saw him staring unapologetically.

His large grey eyes and mahogany hair paired well with my deep blue eyes and mousy brown hair and I stared at how lanky he was, almost delicate in his bone structure. He was not muscular, but he had the confidence of a man who was, and that look made me want to stare into those deep, mysterious eyes forever. My heart leaped and my pulse raced as I saw him approach me.

"You know, I don't know how to say this without sounding like a stalker, but you really are amazing to stare at," he said in a teasing tone.

I turned my head and I could feel the blush creep up my neck and chest as I moved my hair out of the way of my face.

"Yeah, you really do sound like a stalker," I said with a laugh. We carried on talking like that for hours as we walked along the Bridge to the other side, staring in wonderment at the city, and each other.

After that, we met for coffee, movies, concerts, walks in the park and genuinely enjoyed the time we spent together. I almost couldn't bear to be without him. I would have done anything for him, even walked down the aisle.

I allow a single tear to fall from my face, but I don't dwell on the emotion. It will do me no good to remember and I have done enough thinking and crying. Even if I have come leaps and bounds since that awful day, I can't turn my feelings off completely.

I remember his beautiful smile and gorgeous eyes. The feel of his lips on mine and the way his hands habitually stroked up and down the small of my back, easing me against his side and draining any tension from my body.

Yet, with this memory of happiness in my life naturally comes a sense of guilt about allowing myself to feel it. I want more than anything to feel like myself again, but there are unanswered questions as to how and why we broke up. The words he said the night we ended echo in my head, as they have done for months now.

What did he mean by

"You've destroyed us Jess?"

Why did he look at me like he didn't know me? What did I do? What did I say?

These are all questions I have asked myself, and the universe, many times and I draw a blank every time. I guess I must resign myself to the fact that I will never know. Lucy says that if he couldn't give a reason as to why, then maybe he was looking for a reason to end it. I don't want to go into all of it again as it only added to the pain of a breakup that already was making me never want to get out of bed again. When you break up with someone there is always pain, but it's the kind that is understandable after you build a life with someone else in it. Mine just felt like a huge injustice.

The air is humid, as it usually is towards the middle of summer. The city is oppressive when it's hot, but the early morning air makes it slightly more bearable. And I take the time to enjoy it before the heat and craziness return full force once people start waking up to go to work. The slight breeze blows across my skin. The sights and sounds of cars moving across the Brooklyn Bridge have a ceaseless energy during the day that continues on into the night. New York is definitely

the City that never sleeps

, and I am as awake and as alive as I can possibly be at this moment.

I check the time on my phone and notice that I have been sitting here for nearly an hour. I move back inside, sliding the balcony door closed and move towards the darkness of my bedroom. It's then that I notice the light is on in my bedroom. I am momentarily frightened but I breathe a sigh of relief when I find Lucy sitting on my bed in little more than her tank top and shorts fiddling with the soft satin of my duvet cover. I watch her from the shadows, and notice the look on her face that she always has when in deep thought. Her eyes zero in on a spot on the duvet and her hands follow, whilst her long red hair forms a curtain around one emerald green eye. My heart melts at the sight of her and I bite my lip as I remember last night.

"You just gonna stand there gawking?" she softly says, knowing all too well my inability to stay hidden.

"Sorry. I just didn't expect you to be awake Hun...or in my bedroom."

"I woke up thinking about you" she says softly with a slight wink, "but I was also thinking about Ricardo, and... I feel awful that I am doing this with you." She looks down as she says this, like it is a great weight on her shoulders. The excited longing in her eyes that normally accompanies talk of her handsome stranger from the bar last Friday night is gone. I don't like the direction the conversation has taken.

"I see..." I say, with a hint of disappointment in my voice that I simply can't disguise. I had hoped we would go back to occasionally sleeping together but I obviously can't expect her to place my need for sexual release above her budding relationship.

"I am going to be clear to Ricardo that I enjoy sleeping with you Jess, and that I am not going to stop even with him in the picture. I can't imagine being with a man who wasn't accepting of the fact that we like to sleep together." She says this in a rush, and I sigh with relief.

"So, what's the problem, Hun?" I ask with a confused look on my face.

She pauses before she says: "I know I haven't even gone on a second date with him yet, but I have never felt for anyone the way I feel for Ricardo. I am afraid of risking that if I continue to sleep with you, Jess. I don't view it as cheating, but I can't completely avoid the feeling of guilt. Society certainly has a way of making people feel awful for having desires that are outside the norm, right?"

I nod in sad resignation of the fact that I have unintentionally been one of those who shamed her for her choices. I maintain that you don't have to agree with someone's choices in order to accept them, but I know on some level that I was being hypocritical. Even when I was with Justin, I missed having Lucy in my bed. I missed her kisses, her touch, the way she turned me on. We both missed the sense of closeness that we had enjoyed previously.

"I know Luce. It's hard to balance that with your need for a man. How are you going to explain... ya know, our relationship to Ricardo?"

Lucy doesn't answer, but instead stares at the floor and examines the blood red colour of her toenails, tapping her matching fingernails on the duvet cover. I can hear the ticking of my bedside clock and the light of the early dawn begins moving through the gaps in the curtains as we sit in companionable silence.

Then Lucy slowly lifts her head, moving closer to me on the bed and runs her fingers through my long dark hair as she kisses me on the side of my jaw. I sigh at her touch and hold her face as her lips and tongue meet mine. She climbs on top of me and I move my arms around her waist and bottom as she grinds against me, moving the robe away from my breasts and exposing my nipple to her hungry mouth. I squeeze her bottom in an effort to pull her closer but she breaks away momentarily to look me straight in the eye.

"You know, I really enjoyed last night, Jess. I think it was what we both needed after so long denying ourselves."

I nod, not feeling any kind of embarrassment at all and I move my hands down towards her pyjama shorts, but her hand stops mine.

"I... think that there's something I'd like you to do first, you dirty little tease," Lucy says. Her soothing tone reminds me of hot, melted chocolate.

She gets off my bed, removing her shorts completely before moving her body over me and moving her pussy close to my mouth. She then takes my hands and moves them to her hips and says:

"Jess, you know what to do. Make sure you keep your legs spread wide for me."

I then feel her lower her body down towards my face and my tongue instinctively goes to work on her wet pussy. My tongue glides up from her opening to her clit and then back down again, all whilst my hands caress her thighs and hips.

She moves up and down slowly as she finds a rhythm she likes.

"Oh Jess. That mouth. Oh, you know I am going to have your beautiful body any chance I get... Ricardo or no Ricardo. This body is

mine

to use."

I squirm as her fingers move up my parted, wet thighs and they move in a similar way to my tongue. I try not to moan too much but that only makes her squirm and writhe more as her hips start moving faster and faster. My hands then move up her thighs, up her stomach and to her breasts. I squeeze them gently, then my fingers move and latch onto one of her nipples in a pincer movement.

I slowly increase the pressure, causing her to yelp and move even faster.