Dangerous Games
folder
1 through F › Days of Our Lives
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
2,302
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Days of Our Lives
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
2,302
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Days of Our Lives, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Dangerous Games
"Haunting Beauty"
He stood there gazing up at the portrait hanging above the fireplace. He'd arrived early to a meeting with the boss. After easily slipping past security he thought he'd make himself comfortable in the inner sanctum of his employer's office, in his newly acquired palace in the tropics. The heavy curtains were drawn blotting out the intense sunlight. He stealthily entered the cool room it had taken a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
His trained eyes had looked carefully around his new environment, studying it, committing it to memory. Every window and door, possible exits in a crisis. As his glance turned upwards he saw the portrait behind the massive mahogany desk. Like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to it and he moved until he stood directly beneath it, never once averting his eyes from it. He looked at the woman, she was a stunning blond beauty, with big hazel eyes, dressed in a black velvet dress, and holding a bouquet of tropical flowers. Those eyes beckoning to him.
Suddenly he could feel his heart beating faster, his pulse raced as he gazed upon her beautiful face. It was having a curious effect on him and it made him uncomfortable. She was just a woman on a canvas after all, she might not even be real, just something that came with the house or something the boss had bought, or stolen, he laughed to himself, but he could see why he'd keep it or buy it. If it didn't belong to the boss, he'd steal it himself, because she was such a haunting beauty.
He didn't really understand it but she was already working her way under his skin. He'd been trained to use women and either dispose of them or simply cast them aside, they were manipulative, weak and caused many a great man's downfall. He'd heard about those mythical women, the ones who could steal even the most leveled headed man's heart and make him a fool, but he never thought he would be susceptible to it. He never had been before, so why on earth should he start now and from a portrait of all things. He shook his head a little but he still couldn't remove his gaze from hers, she held him there. His well honed ears didn't hear the boss coming and he was taken by surprise to hear, "She's lovely isn't she?"
He turned to see his boss standing on the other side of the desk. Narrowing his eyes he saw the suspicion on the boss' face, "I suppose, if you think of women in that way. I know them for what they truly are." He walked over and sat down in one of the leather chairs on the opposite side while the boss took his place behind the desk in the high backed leather chair. "I see you managed to elude my guards yet again." The boss chuckled with pride, John had been his most prized subject.
He had been gone a long time and the boss was glad to have him back in his proper place as his right hand, doing his bidding. Keeping him from soiling his hands, and giving him an airtight alibi for any crime he might be suspected of. He did his job well and the boss was smart, he was rarely suspected of anything, they made a good team, the boss had always told him. John had known no other kind of life than this, and the familiar is always comforting, most of the time. The boss talked of great plans he had for the immediate future and some for the long term, while John took in every word, committing it to memory, he felt the urgent complusion to allow his eyes to move upward and glance at her whenever the Boss wasn't looking. He seemed to have already raised the boss's suspicion when he caught him staring at her, he wouldn't want him to know what he was really thinking. They finished their meeting and the boss showed him out, he took one last opportunity to have another glimpse of her face, as though he needed to see her just once more before he went, he was drawn to her in way he could not explain nor understand.
Once installed in his quarters, he lay down on his cot and stared up at the grey ceiling. He wasn't thinking of the games the boss had in mind for him to play, he could only think of her and how she had captivated him. He wanted to know who she was. This woman who had penetrated his defenses, made it past all his conditioning and training and forced her way into his undivided thoughts simply by being the subject of a portrait on a wall. He felt himself growing hard with thoughts of who she might really be and what she might really be like. He tried to push her out of his mind and ignore his aching hard on.
He got up and went to the tiny window overlooking the garages, the day was as bleak as this tiny room. He would be leaving in the morning but until then he was stuck here, assigned to the servant's quarters. It had been specially prepared for him, with fresh sheets on the noisy old cot, and the pillow newly fluffed. There was a pitcher of water and a glass on a small table next to the cot. In the opposite corner was a small chest of drawers, the rest of the room was barren. It suited his needs perfectly, he'd only brought a backpack with him, he always traveled light.
Soon his thoughts drifted back to her, he saw her eyes, her lips, and her hair. Her image permanently etched in his brain now, it wouldn't go away and a part of him didn't want it too. That feeling frightened him, he wasn't supposed to feel this way about a woman. His erection throbbed in his tight jeans, he groaned and laughed at himself, "what if she isn't real, or she lived ages ago, get a hold of yourself man!" She refused go away. He could almost hear her voice, feel her silky flesh beneath his fingertips, he could almost taste those luscious lips.
Again he lay down on the cot, he was unable to keep his hand away from his penis, he masturbated hard and fast, his eyes tightly shut as images of her flashed in his mind. He pumped himself almost mechanically and then he exploded. He lay there, his eyes still closed, a satified smile on his lips and thoughts of her still lingering in his head. It had been years since he'd masturbated.
Since early childhood, when he'd been stolen away from the loving arms of his mother and family, he had been borken and remolded into the perfect tool. He had been taught to destroy his own desires, and instead replacing them with the desires of his employer. He was trained to ignore the need for physical gratification, beyond that of food, water and ocassional sleep, nothing beyond what was required to keep the machine he had become in good working order. Giving in to desire and gratification were what made ordinary men vulnerable and prone to mistakes or even outright betrayal, and he was no ordinary man. All this programming and conditioning had been so easily swept away, by just one look at her.
He stood there gazing up at the portrait hanging above the fireplace. He'd arrived early to a meeting with the boss. After easily slipping past security he thought he'd make himself comfortable in the inner sanctum of his employer's office, in his newly acquired palace in the tropics. The heavy curtains were drawn blotting out the intense sunlight. He stealthily entered the cool room it had taken a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
His trained eyes had looked carefully around his new environment, studying it, committing it to memory. Every window and door, possible exits in a crisis. As his glance turned upwards he saw the portrait behind the massive mahogany desk. Like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to it and he moved until he stood directly beneath it, never once averting his eyes from it. He looked at the woman, she was a stunning blond beauty, with big hazel eyes, dressed in a black velvet dress, and holding a bouquet of tropical flowers. Those eyes beckoning to him.
Suddenly he could feel his heart beating faster, his pulse raced as he gazed upon her beautiful face. It was having a curious effect on him and it made him uncomfortable. She was just a woman on a canvas after all, she might not even be real, just something that came with the house or something the boss had bought, or stolen, he laughed to himself, but he could see why he'd keep it or buy it. If it didn't belong to the boss, he'd steal it himself, because she was such a haunting beauty.
He didn't really understand it but she was already working her way under his skin. He'd been trained to use women and either dispose of them or simply cast them aside, they were manipulative, weak and caused many a great man's downfall. He'd heard about those mythical women, the ones who could steal even the most leveled headed man's heart and make him a fool, but he never thought he would be susceptible to it. He never had been before, so why on earth should he start now and from a portrait of all things. He shook his head a little but he still couldn't remove his gaze from hers, she held him there. His well honed ears didn't hear the boss coming and he was taken by surprise to hear, "She's lovely isn't she?"
He turned to see his boss standing on the other side of the desk. Narrowing his eyes he saw the suspicion on the boss' face, "I suppose, if you think of women in that way. I know them for what they truly are." He walked over and sat down in one of the leather chairs on the opposite side while the boss took his place behind the desk in the high backed leather chair. "I see you managed to elude my guards yet again." The boss chuckled with pride, John had been his most prized subject.
He had been gone a long time and the boss was glad to have him back in his proper place as his right hand, doing his bidding. Keeping him from soiling his hands, and giving him an airtight alibi for any crime he might be suspected of. He did his job well and the boss was smart, he was rarely suspected of anything, they made a good team, the boss had always told him. John had known no other kind of life than this, and the familiar is always comforting, most of the time. The boss talked of great plans he had for the immediate future and some for the long term, while John took in every word, committing it to memory, he felt the urgent complusion to allow his eyes to move upward and glance at her whenever the Boss wasn't looking. He seemed to have already raised the boss's suspicion when he caught him staring at her, he wouldn't want him to know what he was really thinking. They finished their meeting and the boss showed him out, he took one last opportunity to have another glimpse of her face, as though he needed to see her just once more before he went, he was drawn to her in way he could not explain nor understand.
Once installed in his quarters, he lay down on his cot and stared up at the grey ceiling. He wasn't thinking of the games the boss had in mind for him to play, he could only think of her and how she had captivated him. He wanted to know who she was. This woman who had penetrated his defenses, made it past all his conditioning and training and forced her way into his undivided thoughts simply by being the subject of a portrait on a wall. He felt himself growing hard with thoughts of who she might really be and what she might really be like. He tried to push her out of his mind and ignore his aching hard on.
He got up and went to the tiny window overlooking the garages, the day was as bleak as this tiny room. He would be leaving in the morning but until then he was stuck here, assigned to the servant's quarters. It had been specially prepared for him, with fresh sheets on the noisy old cot, and the pillow newly fluffed. There was a pitcher of water and a glass on a small table next to the cot. In the opposite corner was a small chest of drawers, the rest of the room was barren. It suited his needs perfectly, he'd only brought a backpack with him, he always traveled light.
Soon his thoughts drifted back to her, he saw her eyes, her lips, and her hair. Her image permanently etched in his brain now, it wouldn't go away and a part of him didn't want it too. That feeling frightened him, he wasn't supposed to feel this way about a woman. His erection throbbed in his tight jeans, he groaned and laughed at himself, "what if she isn't real, or she lived ages ago, get a hold of yourself man!" She refused go away. He could almost hear her voice, feel her silky flesh beneath his fingertips, he could almost taste those luscious lips.
Again he lay down on the cot, he was unable to keep his hand away from his penis, he masturbated hard and fast, his eyes tightly shut as images of her flashed in his mind. He pumped himself almost mechanically and then he exploded. He lay there, his eyes still closed, a satified smile on his lips and thoughts of her still lingering in his head. It had been years since he'd masturbated.
Since early childhood, when he'd been stolen away from the loving arms of his mother and family, he had been borken and remolded into the perfect tool. He had been taught to destroy his own desires, and instead replacing them with the desires of his employer. He was trained to ignore the need for physical gratification, beyond that of food, water and ocassional sleep, nothing beyond what was required to keep the machine he had become in good working order. Giving in to desire and gratification were what made ordinary men vulnerable and prone to mistakes or even outright betrayal, and he was no ordinary man. All this programming and conditioning had been so easily swept away, by just one look at her.