Dark Fantasy

Thomas and Cecilia were assigned to one of the largest suites in the entire kingdom, only slightly less than that reserved for the Queen herself. He carried his new bride up to the door and over the threshold into their temporary new home.

The dark stone walls were illuminated by candle torches. Bright orange, pink, violet and blue flowers sat on almost every free surface. Thick velvet tapestries covered walls, fur rugs lined the floors, and in the center of the room stood the largest bed Thomas had ever seen.

Cecilia's face erupted in a smile and she squealed with excitement. "I can't believe this is ours."

Thomas never felt happier. Here he was with the most beautiful woman in the entire land, about to start their new life together. After years of isolation in the forest, finally things were working out and nobody deserved nice things more than his Cecilia. His chest puffed out with pride. He squeezed her a little tighter and kissed her on the cheek. "A far cry from the cabin, isn't it?" "I happen to love our cabin. Once our honeymoon is over, I want to go back out there to the forest."

Thomas scowled and raised his eyebrows at her. The cabin was nothing more than a wooden shack with a couple of rooms, none of which were well insulated from the winter's cold. Thomas was thrilled to be out of there. "You do?"

"Of course, don't you?"

He scratched his head. "Well, not really."

Cecilia hit him in the arm. "Where is your sense of sentimentality?"

Thomas shrugged. "Uh…"

"That's our place out there, Thomas. I know it's simple, but I want our son to be born in the forest, where he was conceived, in the place where we first met and fell in love."

"You are a romantic," Thomas observed. He still didn't understand why their son had to endure such a mundane entrance into this world when they had more to give him, but if it made his wife happy, he would do it.

Cecilia crossed her arms like she always did when she had a point to make and didn't want to compromise. They never did figure out how their ages compared to each other, but through the years, they concluded she was a bit older than him and sometimes she used it as leverage to get her way.. "Yes, and you should take a lesson or two. Don't you think he should be born outside this musky palace?"

Thomas didn't care one way or the other, but he wouldn't mention that to his wife. "If it's what you want, that's what you shall have, my darling." Thomas laid his wife in the center of the bed and pressed himself against her. His passion rose. He felt his blood rush into his loins and harden him, heating up his entire body with desire.. "I have never seen you look more beautiful than right now."

Cecilia giggled and rested her hands on her belly. "Are you thinking what I am?"

Thomas unbuttoned his shirt, loosened the belt on his pants. "I am."

Cecilia reached for the white lacy bodice squeezing her torso and untied the silk threads.

"Stop. I want to do that. You just watch me."

Cecilia hands fell to her sides. "As you wish, husband."

Thomas removed his clothes quicker.

Cecilia reached her hands to his shirt and raised her eyebrows. "Shouldn't I help you with that?"

"Not in your delicate condition, love. You are my queen now and I will take care of you tonight and every night for the rest of our lives." He tore off his shirt, tossed it aside, kicked his pants to his knees and away from the bed before leaning over her and kissing her neck. "You taste so good."

"So do you." She kissed him and ran her hands through the hair on his chest, down his back to his ass. Thomas straddled her, reached for the silk threads to her bodice and untied them with fervor, tearing open the top of her gown. Her full breasts spilled out and he took one in his mouth, eagerly sucking her into a frenzied state of arousal.

She moaned, brought his head up and kissed him hard on the mouth.

He slipped his hands under her gown and slid the white lacy gown to her ankles, kissing every newly exposed inch of her on the way.

Cecilia arched her back in anticipation of their joining. "Oh, Thomas." She kicked off her shoes, pressed her growing belly upward toward him.

He kissed their son, flicking his tongue down to her lower regions as he parted her legs. Her scent was intoxicating. The warm feeling of her smooth skin sent shivers all over his body and stiffened his cock. "I don't want to hurt you. We haven't done this in awhile, you know."

Alex nodded and reached his hand up, brushed her hair with his fingers. ”I don’t judge. I worry.” He leaned close, brushed his thick poochy lips on hers.
God was he ever a man! And so damned good looking! Who woulda ever thunk I could pull off attracting a man like him? She still thought he was some undercover type, but who gave a damn? He’d probably dump her once he found something better, but for tonight…

She pulled at his overcoat, rubbing it off his lean shoulders and tossing it aside. Her arms ached with every movement, but now that other parts of her body were awakening in ways they hadn’t in a very long time, the endorphins relieved her pain. She loosened his tie, slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt and sent it to the corner of the room. His chest was hairless. Dark nipples were erect with excitement and her lips were compelled to taste him. Musky and sweet all at once. He was one sexy cookie, good enough to eat in one bite.

Her hands flattened on his washboard abs and traced his body to his belt. She hadn’t seen a man wear a belt for decoration before. Normally her boyfriends used them to prevent plumber’s crack. Not this one. He was lean and mean. She undid the buckle and yanked, sending the belt to the other side of the room. “Stand up, you.”

He followed her command and she expertly unbuttoned him, pulling his pants to his knees, lowering his socks while he kicked his boots off. She trembled at the touch of his cock. Ten inches of throbbing hardness felt good in her hands and would feel even better in other places.
She knelt on bruised knees, forgetting her pain and took him into her mouth. She never liked giving blow jobs before, but this man tasted and looked better than anyone she’d ever had the pleasure of pleasing.

She flicked his head with her tongue first, teasing him.

He watched her with curiosity, occasionally tilting his other head back and moaning.

“You like?” she asked with full mouth.

He nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Good.” She sank him into her mouth, pumped him until she tasted sweet drops dripping down the back of her throat. She wanted to tease him, but didn’t want him to cum completely just yet. No. She wanted him inside her first. She slowed her strokes down to a stop, removed his penis from her lips and pushed him toward the bed while pulling her own sweater over her head, unhooking her bra.

He was a sexy guy, but not too quick on the undressing part.

That’s okay. He’s sexy enough to make up for all that. “Want this?” She lifted her breasts up to him like a plate of food.

He nodded and took them in his hands, bringing his lips to her and sucking.

She fell forward on top of him, running her fingers down his sides and clenching him in her fist, pumping him just enough to keep him hard. Although from what she could see, that wasn’t a problem.

Alexandre ran his hands down her sides to her jeans.

Damn! She needed to get these off. She stood back up and seductively unbuttoned them, stripping down to her panties while he watched. Then she gently teased him by slowly inching those down and kicking them across the room.

She rolled to her back, spread her legs. “Come to me. Get inside me.”

He reached out and trailed his fingers down her chilled cheek. "Your skin is so soft." He shook his head. "You are so beautiful, so young. I do not remember what it is like to be so innocent." He stared deep into her eyes. The sparkling green depths of his own were filled with such pain, such loneliness and longing that it made her bosom hurt. "Come. I will lead you home."

He took her by the arm as if to lead her from the ever-darkening wood. She stopped, pulled her arm free from his grasp and, caring naught about her old skirt, sat on the ground at his feet.

"What in the name of God do you think you are doing?"

The sound of his voice reverberated through her, causing her breasts to tingle and their tips to harden to the point of pain. Her most private parts grew moist with her body's dew, dampening her shift and petticoats.

"You are one of them, are you not?" she asked as she boldly stared up into his too pale face. "How lonely you must be." She tilted her head, the thirst of her youthful curiosity needing slaked.

He withdrew suddenly. Theresa’s eyes bulged and her throat gurgled from the effort of not flinging her limbs out and screeching from the flight of his manhood from her sensitised and quivering sex. As one final, spiteful test of her obedience, the crop flew on an underarm trajectory and laid its leather tip to her rosy pussy. The burning influence embraced her belly and it took long moments to start to fade and let her relax her brutalised frame.

“Kiss,” he ordered.

Theresa opened her bleary eyes and saw the tip of the baleful weapon before her eyes. There was a vague sparkle on the leather and whether the moisture was a lingering mark of her arousal or from Setchak’s passion, she puckered her lips forward and placed a kiss to it. The taste of his seed was distinct and had been captured from the final stroke to her ravenous sex. She ran her tongue over her lips to capture more of the tang and her body quaked from its influence.

Theresa wandered over to one of the males and looked across his bare form. The sight of his flaccid shaft reminded her of the ravishing she had suffered at the hands of her own kind.

She grabbed the cock and squeezed tightly. Increasing her vice-like hold, she made the slave squirm and jolt. His cries of anguish were subdued by his crushing hood, but the shuddering of his body more than revealed his misery.

“You’ll suffer, too,” she promised, and clapped a hand to her bracelet to reveal a long cabinet. The interior was stocked with clothing, apparatus, and weapons of torture and discipline. Theresa took down a set of fishnet stockings, looked over the fine weave, and flung them absently to the Theocrat.

“Put these on and get on your knees, slave,” she uttered, and continued to fish around for her desired implements.

Theresa closed her hands about a hood and a gag, and chose to apply them before continuing. She wanted to deprive the alien woman of any clue as to the rest of her ordeal and then Theresa could ease her own anger before trying to affect her situation.

Gathering in the sides of the latex sheath, Theresa walked back and stood before the female. Towering over her, the feeling of control coursed through her veins like a hot tide.

Theresa drew the sculpted bag down over the Theocrat’s face with rough tugs. Once hauled into position it cut off all sight and muffled her hearing. Only apertures at nose and mouth granted breath, and Theresa was intent on hampering both. But first there was something she needed to know.

“What is your name, slave?”

“Khara, Mistress.”

Theresa smiled. She didn’t want to know this creature as the High Theocrat, rather she wanted her normal name, her everyday private identity. She wanted a name for the individual, not the name of the post. It was the first step in dragging her down from the lofty and powerful pinnacle with which she had become so dissatisfied. Even the other members of the Holy Order would only know her title, but Theresa now knew her normal, banal name.

Theresa lifted the gag. It was a construct of sturdy leather and lifting up the front plate, she presented the internal face to her captive’s lips. The plate spat out a smoothed and sizeable box with a hollow interior that beckoned for something to capture and keep.

“Open your mouth and slip your tongue into the hole,” she demanded.

Should she give in to Gitta’s demands and mate with Uglon? After all, most females were mated as soon as the blood of life flowed from their sex. She knew her mother was right to insist she take a mate before her twentieth summer came and went. But Uglon? He was mean and uncaring, but he was one of the most powerful males in the Claw Clan. Their match would make a strong union between their two ruling families. Yet, surprisingly, Rowk had insisted Seita was meant for another. But who? Who was this male she’d never met? Who was this male Rowk honored above all others? And when would she meet this male? Before Rowk laid the joining garland on her head? Or not until the ceremony had already bound her to this stranger?

If only Rowk would give her to Husek. At the first thought of her beloved, the warmth between her legs grew, flowing as fast and furious as the pounding of her heart. Husek with his pale blue eyes and long golden hair had captured her heart two summers earlier. Feeling he was her destined mate, she’d given into his demands willingly, opening her heart and her buttocks to him.

"You may taste me now." Carl let out a frustrated groan as Robert hungrily attacked her pussy, bouncing along with the swing as he lapped at her juices. She giggled, pleased at the expression on Carl's face as her firm, round breasts jostled with the up and down motion. "Spread my lips with your fingers, Robert. Show Carl what he's missing."

Robert used his thumbs and opened her to him, then edged a bit away, giving his friend a view of her pussy. Carl whined like a puppy begging for a treat.

Miranda leaned backward and spread her legs farther apart. "I could tell you have a good tongue, Robert. Those who speak little often do. Eat me. Lick my juices as Carl wishes he could."

Apparently deciding it was enough, they pulled me out of the water, bringing me to lay face down on a soft bench as another rich cottony towel rubbed me dry. Their touch not bad, if a bit harsh, thus my body reacted again with pleasure, but it wasn't until they started applying ointment with seductive strokes that I perceived the arousal pressing on my stomach. Embarrassed, I tried to keep it hidden, failing miserably because all three obviously noticed it and seemed to take extra pains to make it grow, not stopping at the mere surface, rather exploring every crevice. Moving from my shoulders downward, they massaged all the way to my butt, squeezing and slapping both buttocks until I couldn't feel them anymore, finally going as far as rimming my asshole with wet fingers that stirred an unknown desire. Soon after, a hot tongue made the rounds from the narrow opening to the balls while a hand gripped my cock tightly, sliding the skin forcefully to make it even harder.

I groaned, not knowing what to think. It was all too pleasurable, yet too sudden and embarrassing as well, to have men touching me like never before and to like it, too…well, it was a real surprise. And I knew I couldn't resist much longer either.

"Enough!" A harsh voice commanded at one point.

As if they were a single man, the three stopped pampering me and stood up, crowding me to cover the source of the voice I was trying to glimpse through half closed eyes.

"Leave!" At this order, they all started to move away when he called one back. "Wait, Kristioff. Untie his hair and dry it."

"Yes, Seigneuros."

I felt his rough handling remove my pin, the only worldly possession I treasured, and wet strands tumbled disorderly on my shoulders. Wrapping them in a towel, the man administered a series of vigorous friction, making my head shake from side to side.

"All right, now leave." Assertive in his tone, the Seigneuros indicated the staircase after he judged me ready.

In single file, I saw them leave, the sound of their feet shuffling on the first steps reaching my ears until I could hear nothing except the soft tide lapping the stone edges of the pool. And then I was alone with him.

Paralyzed by fear, I couldn't move or breathe. What he wanted from me seemed now clear enough, but I didn't know if I had the heart, or the stomach for that matter, to satisfy him, even if my family hung in the balance. But his slow pacing around my sprawled figure distracted me to the point I began wondering what he could be thinking while his gaze traveled over my every line and curve, which of course tensed me only more for I expected requests I wasn't familiar with, especially considering how little my experience was.

Instead, he surprised me by running his hand through my hair, down their length, closing his hand around the thick strands as if to feel the silky, luscious consistency. "You're right to be proud of such hair." He breathed softly as he sat next to me on the bench. "Even if you have no title to wear them."

"I didn't know there was a law against it." I scoffed defiantly, piqued at his comment.

"Not a written one, no, it's just good manners and you obviously have none."

"I do have manners!" Even more annoyed at this remark, I tried to turn my head to gaze straight in his eyes. "Just because I was brought up in a village doesn't mean--"

Pinning my shoulders to the bench, he pressed down on me, cutting off my words, not to mention my breath. "It means you're mine, little one, bought this morning for a hefty lump of gold and for my pleasure alone." His free hand slipped to my butt and I felt him center the hole at the end of the cleft.

This time though, I didn't intend to keep still while yet another one played with my ass, even if it was the Seigneuros in person. Raising my shoulders, with a violent shove I tried pushing him off my back, but hardly managed to move him. As if endowed with the strength of a bear, he resisted every one of my pitiful attempts until I was too exhausted to continue.

With one final heave, he immobilized me once more. "Had your fun?" He sneered in my ear. "Now it's my turn." Again, his fingers slid to my asshole, this time rimming its border sensually. "And this is my pleasure." Following his curt announcement, he stuck the same fingers in my mouth. "For your own sake, I suggest you make them thoroughly wet." And after I complied with a lavish suck, he resumed the slow circles on my narrow entrance, moistening it without dipping inside.

"I've never done it!" Embarrassed and ashamed, I wriggled to get free. "Really, Master, I'm no good in this kind--"

"Hush, little one, let me be the judge of that." Lightening his hold, Lord Brahany pulled back slightly. "And if I want to make it pleasurable for me, I'll have to make it for you, too." With an elegant swing, he ducked down to my rear, his long hair tickling all the way, and his hot tongue resumed the tantalizing rub I had already enjoyed thanks to his servants. Of course, he was much better, seemed more experienced, too, his wet attentions stimulating rather than just forcing their way into my tight opening. I loved the feel of the drenched tip caressing the borders before edging inside to enlarge the space that sucked it in effortlessly, almost as if it asked for more.

I had never done it myself to the girls I'd been with, all experienced enough to dispense with any particular incitement before opening their ass to a man's craving. But evidently, the Seigneuros had dealt with difficult cases, I realized as a flaming desire surged through my bloodstream each time he landed a well aimed tongue lash into my now hungry narrow hole. And unconsciously, I began to push up and sway my ass as a sort of unspoken required.

"Need something bigger?" Amused, he quickly discarded his robe to cover me stark naked.

Actually, I wasn't sure what I wanted. I only knew my cock was stone-hard, throbbing in anticipation on my stomach, smothered by the thick towel on which it lay, and my asshole contracted, then relaxed uncontrollably in a continuous tempo I couldn't stop.

Pushing his way to enter, I felt the tip of his erection penetrate the outer rim just as searing pain enflamed the hole. With a muffled cry, my butt slumped, trying to slide away from him despite his firm hold on my hips. "I know it hurts the first time." He whispered in my ear while easing the pressure on my behind. "But it'll pass soon if you trust me."

"Trust you? You're the one who's hurting me." I raised my voice angrily.

"A necessary pain." At this philosophical statement, his cock twitched in its twisted pleasure as it nudged the entrance again.

Had I wanted to escape, I couldn't have gotten very far considering the iron grip with which he held me, so he shoved once more, easily breaking through the entrance. This time though, it didn't hurt as much. I couldn't say it was a real pleasure, but my ass seemed to adapt to his shape slowly, finding more space for it as he fitted deeper--an inch at a time, stopping if I tensed, then resuming the moment I relaxed--until it held it entirely in its snug embrace.

In spite of my discomfort, I had to admire his learned slides, even going as far as to enjoy them after he begun thrusting in a way that my cock's skin slid, too, like someone was jerking it off. The more he accelerated, the faster the skin glided and rubbed on the silky towel, taking my excitement to a peak. And his obviously, for I heard him groan with pleasure just as something hot and dense shot up my ass.

Oddly enough, it didn't just feel like a man's usual fluid. Something else of an entirely different nature seemed mixed with it, a fiery ball that uncoiled from my butt to explode in my brain. Now, little one, do you understand what I need you for?

Vankor leaned over and pulled the sheet down off Rianne’s chest. His intense, appreciative gaze stoked her desire, even as it made her squirm. No matter how much she wished otherwise, her body betrayed the deep pulse of physical need he roused in her. It took so little, a look, the musky scent of his body, and she was already entrapped by lust.

“There is one story in which Ayleen pretended to go mad. She tore at her clothes until they were rent to pieces,” Vankor said and the purring strokes of his rich baritone voice made Rianne nipples harden. “Tiranor was concerned that she would do herself harm so he bound her wrists and tied her to the bed.” Vankor took both Rianne’s wrists in his big hand and tugged them above her head. “Like so.”

A tense shiver ran through Rianne and she pulled against the bond.

Vankor ignored her slight struggles and continued with his story. “However, Tiranor had not considered how a half naked, writhing woman, bound and begging for release, could drive all reason out of a man’s head.”

He smiled down at her and Rianne’s breath caught. Vankor’s smile suddenly reminded her of the demon Birishla. She wriggled and pulled harder against his grip. The hunger in his dark eyes only grew brighter.

“Vankor, let me go!” She could hear the thread of fear in her sullen tone, but hoped he could not.

He pulled her arms even further above her head with his right hand while his left began to wander over her body. He carried on with his story as if she had not spoken. “The beautiful succubus tempted him with slender limbs that flailed in the air, seemingly in mad fury, but calculated to expose, through the artful rents in her clothing, the curve of her breast and the sweet darkness between her thighs.”

His left hand wedged apart her legs and strong fingers plunged straight up her cunt. He was not gentle. Rianne gasped and tried to twist away from him, but he only pressed down harder. Every movement in protest rubbed his palm against her clit and created maddening tremors up her vagina. She felt like the main course at a feast—bound, skewered and laid out for devouring.  “You’re hurting me,” she said.

“Am I?” he asked casually. Then bent and whispered into her ear, “Then why is your pussy so wet that you are dripping onto the sheets?”

Teeth bit into her earlobe, not so hard as to do any real damage, but hard enough to sting. When she felt his mouth descend to the vulnerable pillar of her neck, her body began to quiver. Vankor chuckled as he nibbled delicately along the line of her throat.

“You are afraid,” he said.

It was not a question, but she answered anyway, “Yes.”

“But I do not think it is only fear that makes you shake so.”

Rianne struggled harder, trying to deny the truth in his words. She attempted to tug free her arms, but his grip about her wrists only tightened.  Bent her legs, she arched her back completely off the bed. Vankor’s left hand stayed buried in her cunt and he  used the opportunity to plunge fingers even deeper inside. At the same time his lips clamped down on the nearby nipple and sucked. When she dropped back onto the bed, her breast was torn from his mouth. A small cry of pain issued from her, but it turned quickly into a moan as his tongue slathered soothing wet caresses over her breast. She writhed in growing pleasure, but still fought against the immovable hold on her wrists.

“Admit that this excites you,” he demanded in a hoarse voice. The pressure of his left hand pressed up hard between her thighs eased, but only so that his fingers could begin to stroke in and out of her wet vagina.

Almost she gave in and allowed him to manipulate her into a cresting climax. Instead, Rianne rolled away from him, as far as she could within her captivity, and managed to slip free from his seductive fingers. In retribution, she felt his teeth sink into the soft flesh of her shoulder. The sharp pain shocked her. He lifted his head and ran his left hand possessively over the curve of her hip. Strong fingers squeezed her breast and toyed with the nipple. Vankor shifted his long body to fit against her back so that her buttocks pressed against his erect cock.

He whispered into her hair. “I am enjoying this game very much, my darling wife.”

She jerked and squirmed against him.

He grunted with pleasure. “I shall devour you tonight, possess you utterly.”

The growling hunger in his voice made her stomach clench.  “I want you to let me go,” she snapped at him, but her voice was husky.

“Do you really?” he asked. “Or would you rather I fuck you from behind. My cock yearns to thrust between your legs. Would that not be better?”

She felt him probing for entrance. Torn between the need for freedom and the aching wetness between her legs, Rianne continued to deny him.  “Will you take me against my will again?”

There were so many lies in that question that he did not need to give her an answer. Her body had always welcomed him, they both knew that. Anger, fear and pain did not dampen her desire. Perhaps they even fueled it. But if those dark emotions did stir her excitement, then she must resist even more strongly. Otherwise where might this game end? Would she become nothing more than a fawning servant? Rianne’s pride would not allow it, so she fought both him and herself.

She wriggled onto her stomach and found herself locked in that position by a weight thrown across her legs. A heavy hand massaged her buttocks, spreading the cheeks and sinking between them. She tried to shake him off.

“I will take you,” Vankor murmured. “I intend to ravish your body until you scream. You cannot stop me. You don’t want to stop me. Admit it.” His voice was harsh and as demanding as his hands.

Marie surveyed the room in the soft early morning light. The hotel must have remodeled again. The cream-colored walls and buttery, yellow curtains were pretty, but she missed the delicate, flower-patterned wallpaper. That had been so long ago - before the sleek, white and black decor, before the awful orange carpets, even before the gingham curtains. The bed was much bigger too; the sleeping couple seemed almost lost on its expanse.

Her gaze lingered over bare limbs loosely tangled in white sheets. His tanned arm was thrown carelessly across the plump pillows. The girl’s long, blond hair spilled over a delicate shoulder to brush against his open palm. They were so beautiful.

Marie drifted closer. She had once been that girl – slim, blond, and beautiful. Her lover had been fair, though, not dark-haired like this young man. Alex’s darkness had all been on the inside, a tarred soul looking out at her through summer blue eyes. Marie reached out and held her hand a hairsbreadth above the man’s cheek. She could feel the heat of his skin radiate through her insubstantial being. Something flickered inside her. Pain or pleasure, she couldn’t decide. It had been a long time since she felt either. 

The man stirred in his sleep and his head turned toward her. Ghostly fingers sank into flesh and shock jolted through her. Marie gasped and drew back even as his eyes flew open – eyes the color of a summer sky. Then she knew what had pulled her awareness so sharply back into this room. For many years, she’d passed through time without will or weight, like a dust mote caught in a beam of light. Through it all she’d been waiting for this man, her bittersweet lover reborn.

Their gazes locked for an instant. Then his eyes closed and he shook his head, as though denying what his sleep-muddled brain reported to him. Marie broke out of her stunned state and willed herself away, back to the barren darkness of her purgatory.

She came back in the evening when layered shadows offered ample hiding places. Eager voices formed colorful streamers of words which floated up to the ceiling corner where she had concentrated her presence into a murky ball. Cheerful and bright, but with edges as sharp as a well-honed blade, the couple’s interplay of teasing banter and warm laughter sliced through her layers of ennui, exposing pain and envy. She stayed transfixed in her corner as they made love. Yearning mingled with anger and tugged against jealousy in her previously numb soul.

When their breathing settled into the slow, deep rhythms of sleep, Marie left her hiding place. She floated down over the man until she was bare inches above his sprawled form. Her lips hovered over the soft mouth. A kiss and she could claim him. He had a different name now, a new life and a new lover. Yet he was still Alex, and he belonged to her. It was only fair. Her mouth descended.

Raya touched her naked skin, tracing the pink vine like marks on her thighs. She lay on the bed, naked, enjoying her new appearance. Her skin was very white with pink lines running the length of her in a strange pattern that was really no pattern at all. It reminded her of chaos, of nature.

No one seeing her now would recognize her as the spider creature that had helped Gershon escape Veris. She appeared much like a Goth Barbie with her pink and white hair and strange tattoo looking marks. Best of all, sunlight no longer hurt her. She could walk in the light and not fear the sun.

A strange chill filled the bedroom where she rested. It had to be Alard. Since her rebirth to something almost human, he spied on her. On occasion she caught his outline when she bathed. The steam would rise and mark his silhouette. Twice this week she could have sworn he had been in her bed. Each time she pretended not to notice and when she finally acknowledged him, he kept silent. It was a fun game they shared.

"Alard, what are you doing?"

He failed to answer.

She chose to explore this body further and torment the ghost-like man in the process. Raya spread her legs wide, touching the slit that grew moist whenever she knew Alard was near. It felt good. This body was far more sensitive than her old one. She silently thanked the vampire that stuck the silver coin in her leg and brought on this transformation.

The lips around her slit were bright pink with a bud in the center. She liked touching that part best, but she never touched it first. She enjoyed starting in other places until her skin tingled. There was more to her odd indulgence. Touching herself was never enough. She preferred to imagine Alard doing the touching.

 "What happened to the fire?" Cathy asked. "Did it suddenly go out?"

"Open your baby blues. We're not in the motel," Adam said.

Cathy looked around. They were in an office, but not their own. "How did we get here?"

"I'll be damned if I know. Last thing I remember is my body was on fire and it hurt like fucking hell."

"You don't look like you have any burns," Cathy said, glancing over Robert's naked body.

"Maybe it was all a bad dream," Adam suggested.

"Yeah, right. And we're still in the dream in a strange office."

"Good afternoon, gentlemen, madam." Someone entered the office and walked to the large oak desk.

Cathy gaped. The man had to be a hundred years old. A snowy beard almost reached his waist, as did a mane of snow-white hair. He wore a white robe tied at the waist with a silver cord.

"Cathy Whenero? Adam Falkner? Robert Buchanen?"

"Yes. What's this all about? Who are you?"

"Rob, it's a dream. Dammit, all that's missing are his wings for God's sake," Cathy said with a giggle.

"Please don't use the Lord's name in vain."

"Right. Sorry." This time Cathy burst out laughing.

"I fail to see the humor. You have arrived at mid-station, or as some call it, purgatory."

"Huh?" Adam's mouth fell open. "You mean we're dead?"

"Your Earthly bodies are dead, yes."

"So the fire was real."

"I'm afraid so. My name is Valerus. I have been assigned to your case."

"Our case?" Cathy asked.

"Yes. Before you can advance, you will have to do penance for the cruelties you inflicted upon others."

"What cruelties?"

"For instance the young couple who came to you in need."

"That's business. You can't have a soft heart when you're running a business for God's sake." Robert felt a searing pain attack his tongue as he uttered the blasphemy.

"Those young people needed your help and you turned away from them."

"They were a couple of druggies who talked about vampires. Give me a fucking break!" Adam shouted.

"They told the truth."

"How the hell were we supposed to know that?" Cathy asked. "What happened to them anyway?"

"The vampire killed the young man, then he killed the girl."

"And set the motel on fire?"

"The vampire broke into the office. But you were too busy satisfying your perverse carnal desires to hear anything. During the struggle, a candle fell. The motel burned to the ground. I'll show you what happened." With a graceful wave of his hand, a hologram appeared.

"My G…science fiction. Look at that," Cathy whispered.

The hologram was almost life size, causing them to feel as if they were there. They watched as a shadowy figure descended from above, landing just outside the old barn. Huge black wings disappeared and a naked man stretched his arms high. He swiveled several times giving them a full view. The man was beautiful. He was more than beautiful, he was perfection. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, a muscular body, a cock to drool over, Cathy noted. He had the most perfect face she'd ever seen. His skin was very pale, his long wavy hair was jet black, his eyes were as black as his hair.

The light flared in his eyes. “Ah, Dee! It will be a long time before I find another woman with your strength.”

“So why go looking?”

“I’m a vampire. My blood stirs.”

“And that explains it all?”

“It should.”

She flung herself up from the bed and padded across the marble floor, halting before him. Her taut nipples touched his rib cage. His erection pressed out to sear her stomach. She reached up and ran a finger through his jet hair, flicking a long strand back over his ear, smoothing it down his back, her nail scraping his skin. Deliberately drawing blood.

Laughing, he captured her hand, bringing it to his palm and gently licked, then bit, then licked again.

“Where will you go?” she whispered.

“Home.”

“To Cordoba? There’s nothing for you there, only a ruined castle!”

“I will rebuild it. I must do this.” His words were hollow, but she heard the nuance of deceit. The bastard was hiding something from her…something, or someone!

“Alone?”

He inclined his head.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

He smiled gently. “A man must always have secrets from his woman.”

“By your own admission, I am no longer your woman.” She paused. “Cristóbal…”

He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t. When you speak my name, I’m powerless.”

“Then I’ll hold you prisoner. Come here.” She tugged him and they fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. He plunged into her, a sudden and deep fuck, of need. Flesh taken and being taken—no gentle lover’s caress. No, this was for possession, to each claim the other. To bring pleasure amid the pain.

Even as she kissed and fondled him, hers a desperate loving, the resolve hardened within her. She would show this bastard what he was rejecting. He had taught her so much, but now the student would become the teacher.

He had entered her life as master, demanding, making the rules, but she knew his game, knew how to make her own rules, play her own game, make him suffer.

“On your back, Cristóbal.”

“When you take that tone with me, it is so exquisite!” Laughing gently, he acquiesced and lay with his arms and thighs widespread, his hair fanning around him like a black silk cape.

“I aim for beyond exquisite.” She knelt between his legs and lay over him.

“Ah…Madre Dios!”

"Were you prepared for this bloodbath? Isn't the mighty hunter afraid of what I've become?" I sneered, trying to offend him so he'd fulfill my death wish.

With a sudden lurch forward, Rory pinned me to the ground. "Hardly, lover," he mused. "I'm impressed." Pressing harder, he breathed on my neck. "This means I'm not going to kill you either, not yet anyway."

I struggled to break free. "No! You must!" I shouted. "You don't understand. I get this dream, had it forever it seems, the night our women are sliced up and I'm the one--"

"Hush, lover." He tightened his hold. "I know all about your bloody nightmare."

"What?" Taken aback, I went limp and stared wide-eyed at his grave features.

"That's right, lover." He pulled back a little to give me more breathing space. "In spite of your dream, you're no beast or killer for that matter, rather the one that attracts them. Hasn't anyone ever said you cast a shadow--"

"A bloody shadow," I mumbled, unable to silence the echoes from the past anymore. Years had passed since Korax had told me of his fears and to be honest, I hadn't given it much weight until lately, believing it had been an old man's coward excuse, rather than a truth others could perceive, too. Hearing the hunter speak of the same bloody shadow drained my body from all its heat. Does this mean you'll leave me, too? I wanted to ask. Am I cursed to be alone? "Korax said it, but I thought he meant it in a negative way. Or at least he used it as an excuse to leave me."

Rory shook his head. "He left because he couldn't handle it. As a Druid, he can recognize such energy, but not control it. And yours, if unbridled, is extremely dangerous." His voice rose above the fire crackle. "To work properly, it needs a human skill to direct it, which your Korax lacked."

"While you have it?"

A funny look crossed his eyes, the same I'd caught other times before. "I have the training to handle the same beasts you call to you."

"You became my second skin…" I mused, remembering the incredible experience.

The hunter grinned. "Maybe that's why I'm always trying to get in your ass." His lips crashing on mine cut off any further conversation. I didn't think it was strange he'd kiss me. I simply opened my mouth and sucked his tongue in as if it were his hard cock. He soon got free so my tongue flew at him, trying to grab his again, battling fiercely in a pretense war I never hoped nor wanted to win. Surrender felt blissful, to lay down my offense and let him sweep the conquered territory was a cock-wrenching pleasure I had learned to treasure.

My shaft wasn't the only interested party to exhibit this reaction, Rory's considerable thickness stirring into vigorous life, its hardness soon digging at my side. I longed to taste it so my hand fumbled to take it out of its confinement, but he wanted something more. Raising up, he turned around, one hand taking his shaft out to plunge it in my open mouth while his head came above my crotch. Busy swallowing his cock, I almost jumped when his mouth found my bulge anyway, his tongue wrapping around the bursting head. At that point, I didn't know where I felt the most pleasure, if from his mouth-watering erection pressing down to my throat or from his warmth enfolding my enflamed equipment. I nearly choked every time he pushed down, his aim designed to get as deep as possible despite my tongue's blocking attempts. Yet, I never dreamed to stop the sensual game, especially since my cock drowned in his wetness, my hips moving to keep the same rhythm he had set for his shoves. And it was only a matter of minutes before we both couldn't resist the tide and flooded our open cavities with hot, bittersweet seed.

“You’re crazy to submit to these tortures,” Vayu scolded bitterly as he passed the healing lotion on the blistered skin. Wherever he looked, the Aryan saw tiny bubbles bursting with water. Underneath, the defenseless red and raw flesh throbbed relentlessly, sending fresh pain waves to the entire body.

* * * *

For days, Mitra could neither lie down nor wear clothes. His tortured body hardly withstood the air circling on the raw skin and the mere thought of anything brushing against it, even by accident, caused him untellable pains. Now the worst seemed to be over, though it still stung whenever Vayu’s hand spread the soothing lotion.

“You don’t understand,” Mitra said, trying to ignore the pain.

“What’s there to understand, Varuna? You all seem mad to me, including your father. What have you proven with this insane act?”

Mitra sighed deeply. If he had to explain it rationally to someone who did not believe in his faith, it would probably make no sense. “It helps the mind control the body,” he said at last.

“Why do you need your mind to control what lives of material passions? The two travel separate ways and it would be foolish if one controlled the other.”

“You’re wrong, devil,” Mitra argued patiently. “We are a combination of soul, mind and body. They seem separate to a neophyte, yet they are one single entity,” he explained, revealing the mystery of the Three joined as One. “The soul’s journey is what’s really important because it is everlasting, but the mind and body both contribute to its travel.”

“Your Magi is fucking with your head, sweet Prince. They taught me that mind, body and soul are each a part of us and we should explore their potentials, not limit anyone in particular. They define us as human beings,” he pressed harder on the raw skin to mark his point, “made of flesh and blood. If you try to deny that part of yourself, you’d be wasting the essence of life itself.”

“I don’t deny it,” Mitra retorted hotly, wincing from the pain. He remained silent for a while. “I just think there has to be something more than immediate material satisfactions. When I’m dead and my soul has to face the final judges, whoever they may be, what will it tell of my life?”

“That you fucked a lot and with increasingly higher satisfaction,” Vayu teased, his hand playing with Mitra’s ass.

“Fuck you, devil. Would you give such an answer?”

Vayu bent down to brush his lips against Mitra’s, his tongue gently tracing the thin edges. “I’d be proud to give such an answer, knowing who my lover was.”

Permission granted, still a lifetime training hampered Patris’s movements so he entered hesitantly the sacred area, walking fast to reach its center and kneel next to Mylos’s naked form. “Master, there is a woman to see you. She has a…an offering with her.”

“How long since she came?”

“Well, Master, we had to look for you so she’s been waiting for a while.”

“Good.” Mylos’s hand grabbed Patris’s neck and pushed him down on his belly. “I’m sure she won’t mind waiting a little longer.”

Knowing exactly what his Master wanted, Patris opened his warm mouth, positioning it over the tip of the erection straining in front of his face. How long the Blood Divine had been like that, he had no idea, although he was sure of the remedy to release his Master’s tension. Without wasting more time, Patris’s hot cavity enveloped the bulging head and swallowed it. His tongue lashed out to curl around its thickness, sliding on the entire length in long, wet laps that covered each side. Hard sucks soon followed, tentative at first as if unsure on how to go about it. Hard, then more forcefully as he drew the cock further inside. He felt it strain against the confined space, hitting cavity enveloped the bulging his cheek and palate before hovering on the brink of the throat fall.

In an attempt to fight him off, Patris breathed deeper and almost choked on it. Quick as lightning, it had inserted in the even tighter space available, trying to slide all the way down. Managing to keep it a bay was the start of a new game as his tongue wrapped around the stone-like shaft, traveling seductively from top to bottom, his head bobbing along with the movement, partly controlled by Mylos’s continued hold on his neck. He knew his Master wanted him to step up the rhythm so he had no choice but to comply. Using also his hands, he increased his lapping, sucking harder than before, uncaring if he choked, but coughing liberally if he could not resist…anything to please his Master.

“They told me there was a woman posing as a smith craft,” the ironic Roman voice cut through her mystical trance, “so I came to check on these rumors,” he finished, his perfect accent taunting her even more.

Shaking her head free of the fiery images, Brighit got up from her cross-legged position in front of the blazing forge and turned around. A ruggedly handsome stranger stood at the door, a heavy mantel covering his tall body. Dazzling blue eyes, set in a carved face, stared back at her. A heavy nose, thick lips and light-brown hair, which turned golden under the sunlight, completed the arresting image.

“The smith man is right down the street,” she told him, half-turning to dismiss him.

“But I rather like the idea of a woman…” his voice grew huskier, “handling my sword.” He took a step forward, forcing her to give him attention. “In fact, it may even be interesting to have her forge one for a change.” An unmistakable look ran down her body, though it only lingered for a moment. Just as quickly as he had stated a certain interest, he shifted his gaze, coldly ignoring her apparently wanting to deny what his eyes had told her only a moment before. “Always if these works are yours,” he continued, glancing at some of the weapons she kept on the wall.

“Of course, they are,” she spat, bothered by his doubtful tone.

He pretended to study some of the objects for a while. Then, he looked at her, his eyes openly challenging. “How can I be sure?” he asked at last.

Annoyed at herself for allowing him to pull her inside his web, she took a step in his direction. “You can’t,” she retorted coldly. “But you’re in luck today. As I said, the smith man is right down the street and no one’s keeping you here.”

His head bowed slightly as if to commend her sarcasm. “Considering the welcome, I just may,” he said, his conscience clearly weighing alternatives, almost battling against himself. Then, as if finally making up his mind, a large grin broke on his face, lighting his handsome features. “But in some arts, men are not as talented as women.” He took another step forward. “And my sword deserves a special treatment.”

His eyes suggested a wide range of treatments, but now it was her turn to pretend to ignore him. “What if I refuse?” she asked.

“I could order you, of course.” He grinned. “Or use more…convincing methods.” This time, his eyes did not merely suggest. They traveled up and down her length, leisurely undressing her, appraising each curve, before reluctantly putting her clothes back on.

The urge to slap his face was so irresistible that, without thinking, she raised her hand, open palm ready to strike.

He grabbed it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned softly, sending chills down her back. His eyes flashed with satisfaction, obviously pleased with her reaction. “Playing with fire can be extremely dangerous,” he continued more pleasantly, “and you should have learned by now.” He grinned again. “They also told me you were an intelligent woman, though the gods know, I still have to find one.”

“This stupid woman certainly doesn’t have the power…or the stomach to keep you here against your will,” she challenged. “Like I said before, you may try your luck down the street.”

His blue eyes sparkled. “Actually, I love challenges,” he replied, “especially impossible ones.” Only then, he noticed he was still holding her hand, but did not let it go. “Besides, you haven’t told me when my sword will be ready.”

Keidon rubbed his thumb around the hardened bud. He watched with fascination as it poked through the flimsy material of her blouse. Keidon moved his thumb to the next nipple and gave it the same attention. "Maybe Mark can convince the leader to let you stay on the sacred land until the baby is born."

Cassandra lay on the floor and pulled Keidon on top of her. "We'll talk to Mark about that later, but first there is something I want you to do for me."

Keidon's cock throbbed in anticipation. He needed release. "What do you want, Princess?"

Cassandra rubbed his trousers. "I want you to suck on my nipples and give me an orgasm with your fingers. I'll understand if you don't want to right now."

Keidon gazed into her troubled eyes. "I still want to make love to you. I'm not going to punish you for what happened. It wasn't your fault. Let's wash you first," he suggested. The strong smell of Delmirth cum filled his nostrils. Keidon guided Cassandra to the waterfall and then hiked up her skirt. Spreading her legs, he gently washed her pussy with his fingers. Keidon sprinkled water on her lips, then inserted a couple of fingers inside to clean her mound.

Cassandra tilted her head back and moaned. "That feels good."

Keidon stroked her continually, bringing Cassandra to the brink of completion. He pulled his fingers out, much to her disappointment, and guided her away from the waterfall.

The princess lay on her back with her legs spread in yearning. "Give me an orgasm," she pleaded.

Keidon went under the material of her skirt. Cassandra's pussy smelled refreshed from the pure water. Licking his lips in hunger, he placed his tongue against the wet mound and tasted her. Under the darkness of her skirt, he sucked hard. Keidon used his tongue to flick in and out of her center.

Cassandra cried out in ecstasy, increasing pressure on his head.

With his tongue and lips, he loved her. To increase her pleasure, Keidon inserted two fingers and briskly moved them in and out of her pussy. When the juices ran down her legs, Keidon leaned over and licked them. He enjoyed the bitter taste in his mouth. Over and over again, he pounded his fingers inside, adding a third to stimulate her.

Cassandra arched her back and screamed out his name. "I'm cumming, Keidon!"

The warrior didn't stop his finger movements until her orgasm subsided. When she finished, he eagerly slurped up the remaining juices, savoring the taste on his tongue. He longed for more and didn't emerge from under her skirt until he brought her to another orgasm. After he satisfied her a second time, Keidon latched onto her breasts and suckled hard. He lavished the one until it was red and swollen, then moved to the next. "I can't wait to taste your milk," he whispered.

Cassandra cried out in pleasure. "I can't wait either. Please," she moaned. "I want you inside me."

Keidon teased her nipples with his teeth, then lowered his trousers. His hardened cock longed for release.

Cassandra grasped his stiff shaft in her hand and guided it toward her wet pussy.

Keidon plunged it inside her in one swift movement.

Cat's eyes snapped open when a whooshing resounded against the darkness. The faint moonlight obscured her surroundings as she searched for a sign of where she was. She lay on a king-size bed, soft and comfortable mattress underneath her, but couldn't remember how she got here and where was here? She turned her gaze upward, her hands stretched and chained to the headboard, her legs spread and chained to the bedposts. Cat shut her eyes for a second, squeezing her memory to recall something about where would she be, but the few glimpses of who she was faded in her brain as if a solid gate bound her from getting in. How come I remember my first name, but nothing else? She wiggled her wrists and legs to free them, but it only added to the pain that shot up her arms as the metal cut into her wrists. "Owww," she cried. The clouds outside covered the moon and caused the darkness to thicken and settle on her skin like a cloying caress. The coldness in the air made the hairs on her neck stand up. The quality of gloom evidenced it wasn't natural. From the corner of her eye, a shadow hovered above her. Her breath quickened as gooseflesh rose on her skin. Who is there? Her brain screamed. Don't worry, little one. You are safe in my kingdom. The whispery voice caused shivers to course down her spine--shivers not only stirred by fear, but confusion. The husky male pitch built waves of heat that pooled straight into her stomach and her limbs went numb. Her heart pulsated in her chest and sweat gathered from every pore on her skin. She couldn't see where the shadow went. Maybe he hid in the shelter of the blackness. The clouds uncovered the moon and the silver light slipped through the blinds of the open window, now revealing the tall dark figure that stood beside the bed, legs spread. He towered over her. A cool breeze ruffled his long, dark hair as he stood facing her. His face hid in the shadow, but the meager light silhouetted his broad shoulders. He wore a long dark cloak, the soft breeze tugged at the ends of his cloak as he stood still, watching her. Shades of scattered clouds swam on the wall and hid the shine of the moon for a second. The room filled with darkness, then the clouds sailed away, allowing the moonlight to shimmer through the curtains again. She blinked back the moonbeam that penetrated her vision. When her haze of confusion lifted, the tall man was gone. She breathed deep. Where was she? And what was this place? Safe, you are safe with me. His voice was as soothing as if planted in her head. Ice-cold blood ran through her veins. The covers were suddenly snatched off her body. She hadn't realized that she was naked until the cool air swept over her flesh. The easterly drift tugged at the ends of his dark cloak as he strode toward the end of the bed. The sharp crackle of fabric swirled around him with each gust from the breeze. She trembled as his warm fingers slid over her calves. She gazed down and with the faint light from the moon, sought the place he touched, but nothing was there except the press of his fingers on her naked skin. Her body grew hotter as his phantom fingers trailed on her skin and reached her left thigh, then penetrated that hallow soft skin between her pussy and the junction of her thigh. Waves of pleasure shot through her spine. "Who are you and where am I?" she managed to mutter in a low shattered voice as her stomach grew queasy. She shivered, not out of coldness, but because of fear, and maybe his ravishing touches upon her skin. Relax, Cat. The muscular male voice whispered in her ear. His warm breath on her cheek penetrated her soul. A rush of sinful desire sped through her spine toward her pussy. The pounding between her thighs grew to fast jolts of joyful stimulation. Cat knew he was embedding the sexual desire in her gut despite her efforts to free her hands and run to anywhere but near him. She realized then she was well and truly at his mercy, whoever and whatever he was. He knew her name and from the way he touched her body, he knew her body well enough. Cat moaned, "Please let me be." With each breath she took, the desire for more of his caresses fired deep within her. "Shhh." His fingers spoke to her, not in words, but she knew what each finger wanted her to feel--lust and deep sexual desires. His strong fingers reached the curls between her legs and fondled with a soft, circular motion. The cool air caused her to shudder, but his sensual touches warmed her blood.