The Foundry | Part One | Chapter Twelve
the next chapter of my forthcoming novel
The Foundry
by Daphne Garrido
Part One | Thrice Bled Heart
Part Two | Rebuilt; Refound; Reclaimed
Part Three | Dominion
Chapter Twelve
Echo hadn’t been thinking things through, in regard to what she’d seen in the dining hall. Nor had she spent much time considering that message which came a few waking-cycles later, when Cameron informed her that they thought it would be wise to go other their separate ways — at least, in terms of remaining each other’s chosen — citing Echo’s reputation and actions regarding Ashe specifically and neglecting to mention Rory at all.
“Dumb-ass, tattoo-faced twat,” was how she’d last quantified her feelings.
She’d known Ashe would whine to some bleeding heart who’d then tell people what she did. It was pathetic — in her estimation. Echo couldn’t understand how someone could blather on to others about their personal problems like that.
Truthfully though, she needed someone to blame other than herself and was just doing everything possible to ignore the imagery now burned into her mind. She’d really loved eating fish before; she thought that was going to be the saddest part.
As she made way through the hallways of The Foundry’s coreward wing, almost into the senior’s barracks, Echo found herself most excited that her plan would now be coming to fruition.
The quarter was ending. Her classmates had been preparing furiously for an examination taking place at this very moment, and she’d stopped pretending to care what they were up to entirely. No longer would she expend energy in attempts to win them over or make allegiances, nor would she chase a new chosen within their ranks. Echo had a better idea she’d been seeing to.
Many of the instructors and administrators saw her snooping through their office areas. Every one of them heard tales told of her searching for a different one of their colleagues, and none of them realized the information she’d obtained in her successful infiltration of their non-existent security. Assumptions of good faith were often made in designing the inner-workings of The Foundry, and they assumed too much.
Another recruitment mission had been ongoing, with the usual parties involved, and it was only coincidence which saw that team returning this very moment her classmates were so consumed by their final exam.
Echo had seen to the last key ingredient herself, as well as her favorite embellishments. The best of which were the blouse, and those pants which fit so wonderfully well. Also, the hair-cut and refreshed coloring, and her nails, plus how well she’d been taking care of her skin in preparation. The way she’d done her make-up was great too, and Echo had been working out a lot in the build-up to this; specifically her butt.
That key was getting Alan into his room. Forever and always would the boy be a sucker for his favorite pastime — getting extraordinarily high — and it was a rarest thing to find good herb on The Foundry.
She’d not want to disappoint Alan with a lie, that would work against her purposes, so Echo actually had done the work of finding some. It’s how she’d made friends with D'Artagnan; he had the hook-up.
There was a deep regret she’d not some way to capture the look on Alan’s face as he’d opened the door, then as they’d gone to sit upon his bed. All the while she’d still been pretending this was about doing drugs. He hadn’t stopped staring at her body once. There was almost as little breathing going on in that boy as there had been in Echo on her last-ever trip to the dining hall. She’d be having Leopold deliver from now on.
“To us!” She’d proclaimed, raising her loaded pipe, before erupting into maniacal laughter Alan hadn’t understood a bit in the moment, and wouldn’t find nearly as funny as her in retrospect.
They’d smoked a lot in that session, she had concentrates to sprinkle on top, and she’d brought plenty of water to keep them both hydrated, because Echo thought this through. The next step of the plan was to put on some music and pretend the herb was getting to her, then start dancing as if it just came out of her naturally.
By the time she’d looked back Alan wasn’t even pretending to hide it, he was just leaning back onto the headboard with his hand down the front of his pants, biting his lip. She knew she’d had him but kept going a while to make sure there wasn’t a doubt to the matter.
When Echo made her move it was bold. She stopped dancing, and sat gently on the end of his bed. She watched him for a moment, then crossed her arms over her waist and lifted the blouse straight over her head, flipping her hair back to keep her eyes right on his.
Alan hadn’t protested a bit when she’d proceed to tearing off his pants.
Echo gave better face than anyone — and it was a whole thing to her ego — she took great pride in her excellence in this arena, far beyond those instances it was brought out in simulation. These physically bound moments of sensuality would wring even more from the woman’s sopping cloth of repressed need to be witnessed. Echo always believed if there were some way she’d the opportunity to run The Gauntlet in the physical, for real, she would be a known quantity at The Foundry already.
As she’d come to expect, Alan was most anxious after Echo had only just begun those tauntingly slow movements she was employing her tongue to execute throughout and around his dripping-wet pussy.
She’d not headed that demand he’d thrown her way — “Fuck me.” — as she might have in the past; this session needed to last a bit longer.
“Fuck you, pussy. You can’t take it?”
When Echo heard the words come out of her mouth between those most delicate licks of his clit, she’d realized she was surprising herself again. Yet, his moan was of clearest approval, also that following orgasm, and the way he’d gripped her hair so tightly throughout the extended length of it.
She just kept going, but deeper, finding more space inside him. Carving those folds back with the base of her tongue as its tip explored new horizons of depth. Echo never felt him this wet before.
“Fuck me!” He’d near screamed.
Echo just laughed at him, then slipped a finger inside and said, “You’d like that wouldn’t you.”
No doubt he would’ve, but she ventured to guess that deep down he liked this even more. So, she kept going even though part of her knew the time she’d needed was bought. That line had been crossed, and she was officially feeling the panic in her heart begin to rise, anticipations borne of what might come in the aftermath of her plan’s greatest success.
She was enjoying this all too much to worry about it for long though. Like everything Echo did now, she was doing this for herself above all else.
Alan seemed to be getting awfully close to bursting again, as his shuddering legs suggested. Also, that way he was calling out for ‘mommy’ — which was in-fact Echo herself at this current moment.
“Lay down flat.” She’d told him plainly. “On your stomach.”
He was a good boy and did as he was told. Alan seemed awfully eager for what she had in store for him next. There’d been much time spent above and behind, her knees and thighs digging into the sides of his beautifully toned legs, not quite letting any other part of her body touch his own.
She was watching him squirm.
Leaning in with her chest first, making sure he could feel her breasts upon his shoulder blades, holding her waist back so he’d not yet feel her womanhood pressing against his ass, she’d taken an ear into her mouth. Echo liked using her teeth, but only a little, not too much.
“Fuck me, goddamnit it!” He’d belabored with perfect timing, and louder than ever.
Echo had felt the woman hear it as a burning in her own chest. So, she’d abided his request immediately. He cried out for mommy again, as she leaned back and arched all of her body in the most erotic way possible — knowing this image would last a lifetime within Priscilla’s mind — taking a firm grasp of his hair and pounding that boy like he’d always wanted. Alan was screaming so loud he hadn’t heard her enter, despite the fact she’d made a scene by throwing her travel bags to the floor.
Alan came right in front of Priscilla, and so did Echo — just before he’d looked up to see her shattered expression of rageful horror — and they were both extremely loud about it all.
Echo Béleaph had found her chosen at last.
