Velvet Whispers Novels & Stories

‘I hope Kurt is here’ she whispered. “Relax, baby girl. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re just going to have some fun.” They put tape on her mouth so she will not scream again. And just when they were about to undress her. She closed her eyes and screamed Kurt’s name then someone busted the door.

Without her realizing it, her long-buried grievances seemed to be easing away. Her eyes turned watery. The lyrics were a bunch of simple and straightforward words, yet she found herself completely absorbed in them. "Whisper of the Silence." Danise smiled. "Lovely song, isn't it?" "Whisper... of the Silence?" A glimmer appeared in her lifeless gaze. "Such a beautiful name. Is this your latest work?" "How I wish. It's Kyle." Staring into her eyes, he continued, "He composed it with hopes that it could reach the ears of somebody he misses."

Hurrying down the hallway I paused on hearing a sensual female laugh from the throne room. Could it be Vivian? Hope sparked in my chest and I quietly headed to the entrance. I paused on the threshold as I beheld a beautiful female. Her pearl white skin matched to Damion’s and I instantly knew she was a vampire. Her brown waved hair seemed to be dampened by a deathly tint while her eyes gleamed like dark pools of chocolate glinting with unknown knowledge. Justin stood to the side stiff and a slight frown to his face. Eric seemed inclined to have the female walk all over him and this castle as she trailed a hand along his forearm.

She read the poem on the topmost page: Blurry eyes, in a haze, Cry silently near the window, Go without speaking for days, Written words are all that remain. What did I do wrong? You call me a disgrace. Sleep with pretty women, perfect bodies Yet you dare show me that face? I sit by my lonesome, Never a hair out of place, Temptation walks by, You get in the way. Dismay, disarray, I seek comfort, The warmth of a stranger's arms,

“ Meara!” The whispers started again, soft but notable. I tensed, my eyes snapping open. I scanned the field, but there was no one in sight. The sound seemed to come from the tree itself, from the rustling of its leaves. I pressed my palms against the rough bark and closed my eyes, focusing on the whispers. " Come... find... me..." The words were faint but distinct. My heart raced. Was I losing my mind, or was there something more to these whispers? I stood up, brushing the dirt off my jeans, and took a few steps back. The whispers grew louder, more insistent.

This was the Hearth of Longing, where whispered confessions were offered to the flames to be burned away before the final nights of the celebration. Elara sat on a wide couch beside Lyra, her deep violet gown from the gallery now replaced by a sheer crimson robe that did nothing to hide the way her body still trembled. Beneath the thin silk, her pussy was a creamy, aching wreck. Kaelen’s thick loads from the Whispering Gallery and every stolen moment before had left her constantly full, puffy, and leaking. Every subtle shift on the velvet made the warm mess squelch inside her, coating her swollen folds and making her clit throb with filthy, guilty need.

The ash crunched under Camela's feet. Vincent’s hand trembled slightly in hers, it felt warm but unsteady. He was breathing too fast and each breath was shallow. The masks swayed above them, their hollow eyes staring down on them, with their mouths open as if they were ready to bite. The whispers grew louder and sharper, sounding like a chorus: “Love me. Fear me. Obey me. Choose me.” Camela felt a burning sensation in her throat as she moved closer to Vincent, her voice trembling.

Something vast stirred on the other side—a shape with no body, a will with no face. And then, from the fractured ceiling, the first whisper broke free. A soundless word. A name not meant for the waking world. “Valarieth.” Tristan fell to his knees again. His mouth hung open. And a second whisper crawled through the crack, colder than anything he’d ever felt. “And so shall I.” The sanctum was no longer quiet. It sang. A low, vibrating hum trembled through the bones of the world, carried in the blood-wet stone, in the glyphs now glowing a violent, blistering red. Something had been unbound.

A final whisper curled against my ear, silk and venom both. “And when you wake, little Queen… check your throat.”

Velis whispered, almost tender, “how much humanity remains once I’ve stripped you bare.” Velis’s voice filled the chamber, rich and unhurried, riding the rhythm of Caelum’s screams as though the agony were his orchestra. *