Hand

 The house had been swallowed by the woods, surrounded on all sides, as though a private war was brewing that only its master knew about. Hounds bayed, frolicking in the yard as their owner sat, sipping afternoon tea in the garden, intense eyes watching the house rather than the woods. No smile touched his lips as he surveyed his home, before glancing back to his guest.

I sat beside him, sipping the spruce herbal tea that he provided. It was sharp and medicinal, bringing comfort and healing. I winced at the strength of it before looking at him. The blue eyes locked with my own, temporarily seeing me before he returned his gaze to the windows of his study.

“You seem nervous,” I said softly, fingers playing with the napkin he had set beside the sweetmeats. 

“I am unaccustomed to guests,” he replied, looking back at me. I glanced over his beard and hair, well kept for a farmer but lacking in presentation for the noble he was. “Had I not found you whilst hunting, I would not have seen a person in nearly a year.”

“No staff?” I asked, brows raising in question. 

The hunter shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “They come and leave before I return. I prefer the quiet.”

“Do you?” 

He glanced at me, grimacing. 

“Or is there something you’re afraid will hurt others?”

His lordship gave a sharp look and then rose his teacup to his lips, sipping thoughtfully. I turned away, looking at the dogs that wandered over to us, floppy ears dragging on the ground as they laid down, panting heavily. Silence settled around us as the dogs rested, the forest chirping melodically as the noble gathered his thoughts.

“Tell me,” I finally said, disrupting his wandering mind.

The man shook his head, eyes lowered in shame. “I have made terrible decisions, my friend.”

I let the silence hang, knowing he would fill it if it lingered too long.

“I was always a hunter. Traveled for it. Across the world.” He gestured broadly. “Any story I heard, I followed it to its conclusion, gaining an ever growing collection of trophies of my kills.”

My head tilted as I glanced at him, suddenly looking for the mark of the hunter. Yet there wasn’t a tattoo I could see on his flesh.

“When I saw you, you had wounds. Claw marks down your back.” He gestured to my shoulder. “Yet nothing remains, and but two days have passed since I watched you in the woods, near the abandoned home.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. Worry touched my stomach as the pieces began to fall together. 

“No human could heal as you do. So,” he paused, leaning back while looking at me. “I thought to do as I always do. Stalk you. Follow. Discover your immortal secrets. But you are not the first I have seen as such.”

“Are they still alive?” I asked, despite myself.

He chuckled and finished his tea, nodding at me to do the same. “Hunting men is its own sport, my friend. Hunting things… that are beyond men, creatures like you, are where true skill comes in.” 

The man stood, offering a hand to me, eyes glancing to the last of my tea to myself. I grimaced and finished the tea before taking his hand and standing. Like any gentleman, he moved my hand to the crux of his arm and guided me into the home through elaborate french doors. 

“Yet three kingdoms from here I heard of the most magnificent creature. More terrifying than anything I had beheld before. More horrific than Count Szémioth,” he added with a smirk. 

Inside, the house was the home of a noble, in its fine appointments, mahogany furniture, and plush cushions. Silver and gold accents bespoke generational wealth. Yet the home smelled of dust and time, with a hint of something sinister. Beautiful tapestries bespoke his adventures, as he called them, showing terrifying monsters and beasts alike he had claimed 

“I followed it for days, driving it to ground until it had nowhere to escape. We fought for days. It was massive, bigger than any man I have ever seen, with bloodlust in its eyes.”

He paused beside each tapestry, giving me a moment to see and understand his prolific skills. I inhaled sharply at the image of a wolf caught beneath his knife. Throughout the home, well placed blades rested. Swords were on walls, blades in holders on mantels, spears leaning in corners all greeted me as we walked to the great old door to his study.

“Let me show you,” he purred. 

The door opened to a mortal hunter’s lounge, all leather furniture and animal heads on the walls. A great desk sat near windows overlooking the garden. On every surface an exposed knife waited, ready to be used on a whim.

Yet in the middle of the room sat a podium with a great hand resting upon it. It was larger than any human’s, with elongated fingers and necrotic skin that suggested it had been dead for some time. The wrist was a ragged stump, sawed-off rather than cut with one swift motion. 

At the stump a chain was wound, so tight it bit into the flesh. The chain looped up and around the hand itself, moving around the thumb and back down to the wrist itself, before being embedded into the wood of the podium. 

Despite its deathly look, there was no smell of rot in the room. Just leather and herbs. I glanced around, noting the blades conveniently placed. The man released my hand and then closed the door behind him, locking it with a key he slipped into his pocket.

“This is the creature.”

“That’s a hand. A dead hand. You don’t think the chain is overkill?”

The man paused and walked towards the hand. “No. It constantly tries to escape.”

I blinked and followed, approaching the hand slowly. My fingers touched the cold iron of the chain, grimacing at the bite of it before sliding over the skin of the hand. It was dry and rough, as though it had been set in salt. I let my fingers slide upwards, touching the long fingertips before the man grabbed my hand.

“Be careful.”

“Is this what you’re afraid of?” I asked, looking up at him.

“It will be my death, I know it.”

“Then why… keep it?” I pulled my hand back but kept my eyes on the man. 

There was a quiet moment of contemplation as he considered. When no answer came to him, I sighed. “Pride is a stupid reason to die.”

A chuckle escaped him and he sat in his chair, pouring himself a drink. I didn’t move, standing beside the hand instead. My fingers touched the chain, silently navigating how it attached to the wood and how it could be freed.

“You clearly fight monsters, too,” he said, nodding to my shoulder as he sipped the amber fluid. 

I tilted my head, realizing he had not seen me in the woods. I shifted, moving around the podium so it was at my back while he watched me, a bemused smile on his lips. 

“Tell me, how did you kill the Count when you carry no weapons upon you?”

A smile tugged at my lips as I moved my hand behind my back, touching the long fingers of the hand. Softly, I stroked them, petting each digit gently, urging life back into them. There was a chance the lord was simply telling a tall tale, which would be a kindness considering the hand was so far from its originator, or that he was telling the truth, and that it was a creature unto itself. 

“With my body,” I replied coolly. 

He paused, glancing over me with renewed interest. “Have you fangs or claws then? Do you transform?”

I shook my head. Behind me, the fingers moved, lifting to caress mine in return. Their callused tips lifted upward, gently brushing over my wrist in a comforting touch. I shivered at the stroke. “No. Just me,” I finally answered.

“Yet you heal…”

“I’m not human,” I replied. “I’m a monster. Like any other. I seek my own kind and ensure people like you stop hurting them.”

A smirk touched his lips as he stood and moved to stand before me. “So you save them, then? These things you call monsters.”

“I show them they’re not monsters.”

“How? Smash all their mirrors?”

The hand shifted behind me, pulling on my clothes to climb up my back. It was slow, an attempt to keep the chain from making a sound. I leaned back, making it easier, as my hand slid around the chain, ready to tug it free. 

“Give them love.”

His hand moved upward, holding my chin as he examined my face. “You aren’t lying, are you?”

“Not at all.”

“Then how would you stop me, hm?” I felt the tip of a blade touch my stomach and wander upward over the fabric of my dress and swallowed, feigning fear. 

My hand moved to touch his hand that held the blade, caressing softly. “I wouldn’t,” I whispered and leaned forward, brushing against the man. “I would let those you hurt stop you.”

His eyes widened only for a moment before I grabbed his wrist and twisted, stealing the knife from his hand and turning. The blade slid into the chain, and I turned it, making the link break open. The hunter screamed as the hand pushed off of my back and landed atop him.

I knelt, knocking the hunter on the back of the head with the blade. His body fell limp as the hand closed around his throat. I grimaced, gently touching the overlarge appendage and gently stroking. 

“You’re free,” I murmured. My fingers slowly unfastened the chain, pulling it from the wrist and thumb as the hand stilled, as though considering. It crawled back from the hunter and seemed to be watching me as I pushed the chain into my bag.

“You can go.”

The hand shifted, moving to crawl onto my thigh before up my chest, overlong fingers caressing my throat and jaw before tenderly touching my lips. I kissed them, softly, as they brushed against my mouth. 

The pointer finger ran along my bottom lip before pressing inward. A soft moan escaped me as I sucked on the large digit, tasting the earth and flesh that it was. It moved deeper, pushing in and out, before adding a second finger. 

Within my mouth, it quivered as my tongue played over the dried flesh. Life began to return to it, the skin moving from dead to alive and warm. The desiccated skin filled out, returning to full size and filling my mouth with each stroke. Drool covered the fingers and dripped down over the palm and back of the hand, landing in my lap from the wrist.

I whimpered as the fingers plunged deeper before suddenly pulling out and rubbing against my face, getting drool over my jaw and cheeks. Pressure formed on my chest as the hand pushed against me, urging me back. I obeyed, laying on the ground as silently commanded.

Long fingers pulled at the fabric of the dress, yanking it upward in haste, as though it hadn’t felt flesh in a very long time. The hand crawled beneath the soft fabric and slid up to my breasts, kneading and massaging each of them before pinching and teasing the nipples. I shuddered, stroking the hand through the distended fabric covering my body.

A moan escaped my lips as it explored further downward, one long fingertip circling my belly before sliding lower. It traced the lips of my opening, tickling the tender flesh before slowly parting them with two fingers. One finger flicked against the sensitive nub of flesh, pulling a whimper of delight from me as my hips slightly bucked.

The flicking continued, steady and rhythmical, pulling sounds of delight from me before it pressed firmly downward and began to move in circular motions over the skin. I gasped, shuddering as the fingers picked up speed, pushing me closer to a precipice of pleasure. My hand grabbed the wrist, grasping for anything, and held, pushing my pelvis up against the skilled fingers. 

My moans became more frantic as the hand picked up speed, playing my body as an instrument with estranged ease. I cried out, shuddering and whimpering as that pleasure grew into overwhelming pressure and exploded. My body tremored as I gasped, releasing the hand and shuddering beneath the touches.

Panting, I shifted, moving from the floor to kneel. My fingers pulled the dress up and my companion crawled beneath me, laying palm upward with two large fingers poking upward, teasing my entrance. My eyes slid closed as I lowered myself atop it, feeling the fingers slide upward and inside, thick and long.

They pushed against the back of my entrance, a twinge of pain and pleasure mixing as they filled me. I pulled in a breath and then began to move up and down on the fingers, moaning as my juices coated them while they slid in and out of me. My hips rocked as I moved, the fingers pushing upward to meet my every downward motion. 

One finger moved backward, slipping into my back entrance and stroking inward. I cried out, new pleasure soaring through my body with each stroke of the thick, strong finger. We moved together as I rode the hand, a third finger sliding inside with the other two as a thumb maneuvered to caress the sensitive nub it had released before.

Cries of pleasure filled the hunter’s office as the hand filled me in every way. I dug my nails into my thighs with each movement, teeth biting into my bottom lip as the pressure built once more, driving me wild with hunger and need. I let my skirt go, grabbing my breasts and tweaking the erect nipples through the fabric before the wave of pleasure ripped through me.

I twitched and shuddered on the hand as it kept thrusting, even when I stopped moving and just moaned atop it, core tightening around the thick fingers. My hand touched it, whimpering as sensation pushed me over the edge and further, to realms of pleasure where time became strange and pleasure became consuming.

Gasps left my parted lips as I laid back on the wooden floor, the hand slowing its teasing before finally sliding out of me, covered in my wetness. It crawled over my body, stopping to tweak a nipple before touching my lips. My tongue licked it, tasting my fluids as I cleaned them off.

A soft sound of pleasure left me as the hand softly caressed my cheek. “I suppose I need to find your body and say thank you,” I murmured. The fingers touched my chin, tapping once in quiet agreement. 

My eyes wandered over the unconscious man, his eyes flickering as consciousness threatened to arrive. I nodded towards him. “What do you want to do about him?”

As I sat up, the hand gently pushed on my thighs, gesturing with two fingers for me to leave the room. I pursed my lips and then nodded, stopping to touch the hand softly. “It’s your choice, but do what you need.”

 

The door closed behind me as I left, the sound of a murderer choking the last sound I heard in that house.