All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
This story is another from the archives, and is not written by me.
Requests for just about anything concerning these posts will be ignored.
See the FAQ in a.s.s.d for more information. And stop sending talk
requests. Even when I'm logged in to this posting site, I usually
have the window closed, and if I don't, it's because I'm WORKING
From: pookie@ROCK.CONCERT.NET (Jeanette A Smith -- Personal Account)
Subject: Story: The Threshold by: Erekose
Date: 28 Sep 92 03:20:03 GMT
[reformatted - KME]
I am posting this for a friend...i will forward any msgs to him....
i loved it....
p.s. the traditional copyright rules apply ya know the shtick...don't
pass it around sell it or put your name on it.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I want to thank Pookie and Elvira for their help and support
(and merciless criticism) while I wrote this vignette. I dedicate it to
Pookie, who encouraged me to write it (to put it mildly), to Elvira for
passing the story through her patented Wet Test (TM), to Brier for
inspiration, and to the rest of my friends over the net (not many, but I
believe in quality rather than quantity). After many visions and revisions
The Threshold finally took shape and life. Its feels good to play at being
God every once in a while :)
This the first story of B&D/erotica I have ever written. Pookie
asked me to write down my B&D fantasy, and I found that I didn't have one
in particular. Anyway, I said "yes" and started writing something, but soon
got dissatisfied. Then I decided to give it some substance and turn it into
a story, since I didn't want it to sound like a letter from Penthouse's
Forum. Since I love Heroic Fantasy/Horror/SF, the genres I love and usually
write (whenever I get the chance to), I couldn't help to turn it into
precisely that, using as a base the B&D "hero" I invented when Brier asked
me to do a B&D graphic novel (which never went beyond the storyboard):
Aidan. I felt kind of awkward as I did it, "dirty" even. But I managed to
come to terms with that, since those feelings stemmed mostly from that
propaganda one's fed since childhood, that "sex is dirty". Another
successful step in the integration of my Shadow with my Self :).
Pookie is pushing me to write a second part (which, in fact, already
existed before the first), and I probably will, since I enjoy writing.
I hope you find this small adventure into the realm of the mind a
< The Threshold >
Malcolm Stewart sat in front of his crescent-shaped desk, his chin
resting on one leather gauntleted fist. There were huge window panes at his
back showing the blackness of the forest surrounding the mansion and a
star-studded, moonless night. He turned off the light of the room when he
entered it, closing the door behind him. His sensitive eyes soon became
accustomed to the faint illumination of the stars. Only the monotonous
tick-tock of the intricately carved grandfather clock at his far left dared
to break the tense stillness of the studio.
His expression was that of serene introspection, unchanging, his eyes
focused on a random point in the shadows of the room. Deep inside though,
he felt restless, like a coiled spring. His strong heart pounded hard
against his broad, well-muscled chest, a tendon in his sinewy left arm
started throbbing, then stopped. He quirked an eyebrow, opened a drawer,
fumbled inside it for a second, then took out a small leather sack. After
closing the drawer he placed one hand inside the sack. Clicking sounds
-like that of pebbles rubbing and softly hitting each other- came out of
it. He drew a smooth, flat stone from the sack and placed it on the desk.
"Uruz." Then he drew four more rune stones. "Hagalaz... Thurisaz...
He placed the sack beside them and looked at them for a long while.
The runes seemed to glow faintly in the starlight.
"Frea flmihtig...," he breathed. A faint smile appeared on his full
lips. "'Tis tonight... isn't it?"
He gave a start as a faint, eerie howl echoed on the dark forest. He
swung around on his chair, his black eyes trying to pierce the dense shade
of the vegetation beneath. After a while he espied several pairs of glowing
points moving restlessly. One of those pairs in particular remained still,
fixed on Malcolm's own.
"Ece Dryhten. My brother... my Shadow... you know it too? Are you so
anxious to jump at me and tear my throat open? Do you fear me as much as I
The small hairs on his nape bristled and he turned around, looking at
the runes once more. Thurisaz, the rune of Thor, of the Threshold, pulsed
with an argent radiance synchronized with the beating of his heart. He
raised his eyes, fixing them on the closed door expectantly. Moments later
he heard a door open, close, then a series of measured steps approaching
his door. He shifted his weight unconsciously on his chair in response to
the pressure he felt between his legs. He slowly leaned back.
The doorknob twisted silently, then the door swung inward, letting in
the yellowish light of the corridor outside. His pupils narrowed, the
effort giving him a slight discomfort, but he didn't blink. Silhouetted
against the light was the tall figure of a woman. Silvery chains with tiny
jeweled skulls were wrapped around her knee-high, spike-heeled boots. The
dark, intricate mesh of her stockings rose up her thick, firm thighs, and
were held by garters fastened to a steel-studded belt on her slim waist.
Her loins were adorned with a g-string that outlined her generous labia.
Her arms were wrapped with long, fingerless, leather gloves that displayed
proudly her sharp crimson nails. A lace-up bustierre encased snugly the
creamy flesh of her breasts, and her neck sported a leather choker with
small sparkling chains dangling from it. He could see her full, red lips
glistening, the savage glint of her long- lashed eyes. Her hair was black,
long and wild, cascading down her slim-muscled back.
She paused there for a second before entering, the carpet muffling
the sound of her feline steps. Her eyelids were lowered slightly, smiling
slyly as she played absently with her long, silver-handled whip. Their eyes
locked on each other voicing a silent, primal challenge.
"Jezebel," he said in his firm, deep voice. "I must say, you are
appetizingly attired tonight."
*Defy him* said a voice in her mind.
"Thank you... master."
He got up from his chair and faced the windows. "You almost look like
a creature of the night. Sweet, dark, dangerous... Of course, appearances
are often deceiving..."
"Are they... master?
He remained silent.
*This is the night*
"This is the night... master"
*You are strong, superior. Don't you feel the fire in your womb? Let
it fuel your blood with lust, with power*
"You know it as much as I do. When the night is without moon, when
the blood boils inside our flesh, when the hunger we feel for each other
becomes intolerable. And I feel so hungry... so lustful... so strong... so
"Ah...," he turned around. "*That* night."
*He feels your power! Look at his cock! Look how much it wants to
impale you, to probe you and rob you of your power*
"Don't act as if you don't know. I can see the sweat pouring down
your temples. Almost... feel... the throbbing heat of your swollen cock-"
"Is that the way to address your Master? Have I given you leave to do
*Master? Master he said? Hahahahahahaha... he has never been my
master, nor yours*
"Master...," she snickered. "I don't need your leave for anything
tonight! This is the night where you must prove once again your mastery
over me and my... body." She fondled one breast with her free hand. "I've
seen you grow... soft... lately. I don't think it will be difficult for me
to have you licking my feet on all fours. *Ooooh* I'd love that."
"You are so naive." He approached her slowly, without malice. But,
before he could take four steps, the whip whistled as it cut the air and
clawed at his left cheek. He cursed, taking a step back. Something warm
flowed down his cheek, dripping on his wide, white shirt.
"Thank you... *slave*"
Malcolm shot at her a fierce glance. To her eyes he suddenly seemed
to grow in size in the shadows, but dismissed it as a trick of the dim
light of the room. He darted at her, but she was fast, and ready. She
lashed again with the whip, rending open the wide sleeve on his right arm,
wounding and exposing his biceps. Then again along his chest, tearing the
fabric and exposing the taut muscles beneath. He gritted his teeth, raising
his forearm to protect his eyes as he tried to find a weakness in her
defense. Her next swing struck his neck, and the whip coiled around,
fastening it tight. As he struggled to remove the whip she moved around
him, and crushed her breasts against his back as she placed the metal
handle at the base of his neck, pulling with both arms. His neck tensed,
his face reddened with the effort, gasping at intervals.
*Enslave him! Make him your dog!*
"Yield!" She stretched her neck and licked the wound on his cheek. "I
will be kind as a Mistress, my bull. My yoke will be sweet, " she increased
the pressure, "very swe-"
He raised his arms and dug his thumbs hard below her jaw. She became
momentarily dizzy, then he grabbed her wrists and pulled them apart,
forcing her to release the noose, and threw her over his shoulder. Malcolm
took several steps back, and gasped as he finally unwound the whip. Jezebel
raised herself lightning-like on all fours, her mane hiding her face, her
eyes glowing like fiery emeralds beneath it. She hissed.
"You are strong, woman," he admitted, "very strong." He tossed the
whip on the floor in front of her.
She looked at the whip, then at him, somewhat shocked to see he
didn't use it on her. But then she flared at the implication of it, that he
didn't need it to tame her. She snarled, took the whip, and flipped back,
landing on her feet. He smiled inwardly, proud to have a mate such as she.
"And you are a fool!" She lashed again.
This time he raised his gauntleted forearm, coiling the whip around
it and holding it firmly. "Show me a man, or a woman, who isn't." He
wrenched it from her hand and started to approach her. She swung around,
aiming a kick at him. He blocked it with his forearm, held her by the ankle
and pulled hard, making her to fall to the floor on her back. He
immediately straddled her. Jezebel hit him repeatedly and firmly with her
fists until he managed to grab her wrists and tie them together with the
whip. She buckled furiously, screaming obscenities at him.
"Now," he said, pressing hard on her sides with his thighs, "I was
going to allow you to come to the Threshold on your feet, but I fear you
have lost that privilege, my sweet- tongued lady." He fixed his eyes on the
cleavage between her rising and falling breasts, which glistened with sweat
like the rest of her exposed skin. Then he looked at her face, her wild
hair matted chaotically over her soaked face. Her succulent, blood-red lips
were inviting, and he licked his in anticipation. She smiled wolfishly,
lowered her lashes and parted slightly her lips noisily, moistening them
slowly with the tip of her pink tongue. He inclined his face slowly and
pressed his lips to hers, chewing her lower lip as if it were a ripened
fruit. Her tongue darted out probingly, shamelessly twisting it around his,
her hips arching upward to rub her pussy against his bulge.
An alarm rang on the back of his head, and he got up with a start. He
cursed, taking a hand to the sting he felt on his lip, then looked at it.
His hand was smeared with blood from a small cut on his lip. Malcolm looked
at her. She was chuckling, holding a tiny razor between her teeth. He
seethed, slapping her face with the back of his hand with more force than
he intended, sending the razor scuttling far into a dark corner of the
room. She shrieked in pain. He frowned, feeling somewhat guilty for it,
then stood up slowly.
"You need to be taught again to moderate your conduct, my cat. Will
you be so kind as to follow me?"
He began to drag her easily across the floor and out of the room into
the corridor outside, his physique used to heavier loads that this. She
wriggled and pulled at her bonds, trying to free herself or at least to
make his job more difficult, but to no avail. Her stiffened nipples ached
as they felt the friction against the floor through the leather. Her hands
swelled and the stinging sensation on her wrists sharpened. She moaned.
At the end of the corridor he stopped, opening the door of an
elevator. Malcolm looked back and down at her, then along the floor of the
corridor with a smile on his face.
"My dear Jezebel, you nasty girl. You are so wet you have left a
sweet trail on the floor. You were always such a gusher."
She twisted around on her back, smiling broadly, pressing her thighs
together, flaunting her soaked g-string. It was slightly lowered, revealing
her pubic hair matted with her own honey. "How is the lip?"
He quirked an eyebrow, licking unconsciously his cut. "Salty." He
tugged her inside the elevator with one pull. As the elevator moved from
the top floor to the dungeons beneath she wriggled closer, opened her legs,
and began grinding slowly her pussy against his leg, smearing his boot. He
withdrew it and placed its front end on her leather covered pussy. He
pressed down. "Remain still," he pressed harder. "Still!" She winced,
biting her lower lip and moaned.
The doors opened, revealing a 10'x10'x15' room, with 10 feet high
double doors at the far end. There was a glowing runic inscription crowning
the Threshold. He dragged her out.
Each door was intricately carved with mythical and human forms
engaged in all shades of libidinous activities. In the very middle, each
half belonging to one door, was a human-sized carving of a bat-winged woman
impaling herself on a phallus. There was an iron ring hanging from each of
her breasts. Malcolm used his free hand to grab one of the rings and
pulled. He strained for several seconds until the door yielded at last to
his strength and opened with a sharp, rasping sound.
He tugged Jezebel inside. The room was dome-shaped, with a radius of
100 feet. A single globe of light illuminated dimly the place at the zenith
of the dome without any visible means of support or energy supply. There
were round beds dressed in silk and soft round pillows with iron rings
along their circumference. Elegantly shaped steel supports arched over
them, from which dangled blue steel chains and a translucent, silken
canopy. There was a circular pool in the middle of the vast room, carved
into the solid granite of the floor, with several humanoid-shaped fountains
recirculating the water in it, filling the place with its music. A
life-size jade statue of a water-nymph with snakes wrapped around her
voluptuous limbs rose from the center of the pool. It had its slim arms
extended, palms upward, supporting horizontally a two-handed sword made of
ancient Damascus' steel. At intervals along the base of the dome bronze
braziers perfumed the air with a sensual fragrance.
"Blue-veined Damascus' steel," he whispered to himself. "A bane for
the Crusader's feeble metals. Many a Crusader sword was smashed by this
ingenious Moorish alloy. Yes... I remember..." Suddenly he became aware
that he was talking aloud, blinked, and looked at Jezebel. She was staring
at him intrigued by his obscure monologue.
"Just... something I read. Pay no heed."
He stopped in front of a tall arch with two fur-lined fetters hanging
from the top with silvery chains, and two more on the floor. Malcolm
kneeled, pinning one of Jezebel's legs with his knees as he tried to fetter
the ankle of her other leg. She fought vainly against his firm grip as he
bound her ankles firmly. Malcolm got up, walked around her, and raised her
to her feet. He went around her once more and faced her. She had her head
lowered, smiling, looking at him though her lashes. He untied her hands,
and as he freed them she clawed at him, but he just laughed and held her
wrists. She strained her arms, shoulders and back to break his hold, only
to see him hold her in place with a fraction of her effort. He fettered her
arms with greater ease.
She struggled viciously against her bonds, making new beads of sweat
to bathe her aggressive forms. He just stood there, with his arms crossed
over his chest, pensive.
Malcolm squatted, drew a long Scottish dirk from his right boot, and
looked at her. She tensed. He glided the cold flat of the rune-carved blade
over her cheek, neck, and over the laces that held together the bustierre.
Then he placed the tip of the blade against her armpit. She shivered.
"You must be wondering what I have in store for you my lovely slave.
Well... first of all, I should free your pussy of her modest attire." He
sheathed the blade in the front flap of the leather panty, pressing it to
her labia, then slid it up, cutting the strap of leather which held it in
place. It fell with a wet plop on the floor, a long, viscous strand of
honey still connecting them. "Ah, you are so deliciously wet down there my
wildcat. Its sweet perfume reaches strongly my nostrils, making my mouth
water. It would be a shame to waste such precious nectar."
Squatting, he beheld her glorious femininity. Her black hair matted
over her mons, her thick, rounded labia parted slightly and dripping, her
clit throbbing expectantly. He kissed her clit, then drew out his tongue,
gliding it slowly between her labia, tasting her pungent ambrosia. The
scent and taste numbed his senses and he pressed his face harder on it,
lapping and drinking ravenously at her pussy, his strong hands fondling her
ass cheeks roughly. His lower lip stinged deliciously on contact. There was
a tremor on her belly that rippled though her body as her senses were
washed away by the first orgasm.
"Oh, yes Master," she panted. "Lick me Master. Oh... make me cum. Eat
me, suck my clit..."
He drew his tongue up, nibbling on her juicy pussy lips as he went,
then landed on her clit. She moaned as he wrapped her erect piece of flesh
with his lips, nibbling on it. He inserted the fingers of one hand hard
inside her womb, she stifled a shriek. Then he started to finger-fuck her
slowly as he played with her clit. His free hand travelled over her slick
derriere to her asshole, teasing it. She drew her head back and to the
sides, swaying drunk with pleasure. Malcolm sucked long, hard, and noisily
at her clit at the same time he inserted one finger in her ass. Jezebel
pressed her hips on his face with abandon, bit her lip, shuddered, then
several cries escaped from her as she came again. Honey poured down her
love hole profusely, which he drank with increasing ardor.
"Oh, Jezebel! You taste so... so good. I could lap your cunt all
night and be satisfied by that alone, my exquisite slave."
He rose and kissed her hungrily. Jezebel's frenzy escalated as she
tasted her own fresh sweetness, as she smelled so closely her own scent. He
lapped and nibbled her lips, her tongue coiling around his. Then sunk his
teeth hard on her lower lip and drew back. She shrieked, and shot a fierce
glance at him as she tasted her own blood.
"Now we are beginning to get even," he replied with a smile.
She licked her lip and followed him with her eyes as he went to a
long table with a series of toys arranged orderly over it. Her body was
still glowing with the delicious heat of the flames Malcolm conjured from
her pussy. The sting she now felt on her lip, and the slight soreness in
her asshole, only served to enhance the sensation. She looked at him
dreamily. The wide, tattered shirt and leather pants did little to conceal
his broad back or his delectable asscheeks, which she hungered to bite, and
she promised herself that she would, even if she had to beg for it. He
smiled to himself, for he felt her stare on his ass, and stood there longer
than necessary just to flaunt it.
Malcolm approached her with a small sack, which he dropped at her
"Now, we must free your delicious breasts from such an unjust
He slid his sharp dirk between the laces of the bustierre, then
sliced it open with one smooth pull. Her firm breasts bursted free from it,
jiggling a bit as they did. She winced and looked down, seeing that he made
a small cut on the flesh between her tits. He licked the wound clean.
"Thank you." He looked at her sternly, quirking an eyebrow. She smiled
slightly. "My Master," she added. "My powerful master."
"Better," he grunted.
He fondled her breasts and sucked at them, making her nipples swell
quickly. "Such beautiful nipples." She wore a silver ring on her left
nipple with a small jewel in it. He tugged at it with his tongue and
smiled. "But before I go on..." He took a pair of pliers from the sack and,
before she could voice her outrage, cut the ring in half, drawing it out of
her nipple and tossing it away. She was very proud of her breasts and
nipples, but even more of the ring she cherished so much. She looked at him
speechless, on the verge of tears. "You need to be chastised after what you
did to your Master. Others wouldn't be so kind as I have been to you." She
looked down, flushed.
He continued fondling her breasts and nibbling at her pierced nipple,
then drew from the sack a pair of nipple clamps attached by a small chain.
He pinched her nipples hard to make them swell to their utmost, attached
the clamps, then twisted the small screw in it to increase the pressure
until he saw her flinching.
"There. You look beautiful with them on my love."
She looked, breathing hard, feeling the pain clawing at her breasts.
"They are beautiful, Master. They make my luscious tits look even tastier
to you, Master, and to your slave. But, my ring..."
"Your ring nothing. You don't deserve it. You will have to earn it
He picked the sack and moved to her back. He drew a flail from it,
and teased her asscheeks with it. "You have such a beautiful ass, my love.
So inviting, so firm. I'm afraid, though, that I'll have to flog you on it
for your misconduct." He slapped it with his hand, leaving the red
impression of his fingers on it. The stinging sensation on his palm as he
did that, together with smoothness of the firm flesh of the woman, made the
small hairs on his arm bristle with delight. "Don't you agree?"
"Whip me Master," Jezebel breathed. "I deserve your fury for what I
did. My ass is yours to set aflame with the strength of your powerful arm,
my Master. Yes, Master, I agree."
"I am glad that you can see my point, lovely slave. Now, curve your
ass more. Yes, a little bit more... there. Stay that way."
He hit her with the flail on one cheek, then on the other with the
backswing. She moaned and arched her ass even more, exposing her asshole
and the beautiful mound of her glistening pussy. With each hit his eyes
acquired a fierce, animal glint. The flail left a chaotic pattern of
crimson rays on her flesh, which slowly blended with one another, until
both cheeks glowed like coals. He stopped.
"More, Master!" She sobbed. "More, please!"
He squatted and licked her cheeks, then her hole, pressing the tip of
his tongue on it until it yielded. He tasted her hole for a minute, then
kissed it, before renewing his flogging.
"Who," he asked slowly, savoring the words, "is your Master?"
"You!" She gasped. "You are!"
"Am I soft? Do you think your Master is soft?"
"My Master is strong!" She licked her lips, her pussy starting to
water again. "Powerful! You are not soffffft.... my lovely Massster."
"But you said it would be easy to have me, your Master, licking at
"I... I am sorry Master... you are the Lord of my body. Jezebel is
He stopped, tossed the flail to one side, and started licking her
sore ass once again.
"Ahhhhh... Master...yessss... I... I love you."
He paused and frowned, the mist of passion suddenly lifted from his
eyes. He walked around and faced her, his expression softer. He extended
his hand and touched her chin. "I... I love you too Jezebel. You are my
life, you know that."
She smiled, and nodded. "As you are mine too."
He unfastened the fetters and, just after releasing the last one, she
threw herself in his arms and kissed him tenderly. They remained in each
others arms for a long while.
"Make love to me, Master. Do whatever you want with me."
Malcolm took her by the hand, picked up the sack, and together they
went to one of the canopied beds of the dome. He laid her down gently.
"Turn around, I still want to give your ass a little treat."
Jezebel acquiesced, giving him a view of her splendid back. He licked
her hole, then drew a jar from the sack. He opened it, dipped two fingers
in it, and lubed her rear gently. Then he took a black anal plug with
straps on it and placed its tip on her hole. She squirmed, her clamped
nipples injecting liquid flames into her quivering breasts as she pressed
them on the bed.
"Be gentle, Master," she gasped softly.
He smiled, and started to press on it. The sphincter parted wetly,
but didn't yield immediately to the plug. He drew it back, and pressed on
it, harder, managing to get it through halfway. Jezebel moaned and licked
her lips, arching up her neck, relishing the pleasure the ripples of pain
on her ass were giving her. "I love endorphines," she said with a throaty
Again, he drew it back, grinned, then shoved it in forcefully. She
cried loudly, rending the sheets of the bed as she clawed at them, then
began to pant. He held the plug fast with the straps, tying them around her
waist and thighs.
Malcolm placed his hands on her cheeks. "How does it feel?"
"Nasty, Master. And oh-so-tight. I came again."
"That was lovely, Jezebel."
*He released you. Now its the time! Rebel!*
She placed her hands on her temples. "That voice!"
*He cut your nipple ring! He dared to cut it and toss it like trash!
He will do the same to you!*
"Jezebel! What is it?" Malcolm turned her around and grabbed her by
her shoulders. "Love? What's wrong?"
*Now! Before its too late! Escape! Go out into the woods!*
"You will not toss me away like trash!"
She hit him on his groin with her knee and ran away. He winced,
gasping for air, but managed to twist around before she disappeared though
one of the many doors of the dome.
"No!" He tried to yell. "The woods! Don't go there, not tonight!"
Then he widened his eyes as everything became clear to him, and made an
effort to get up. "Amon! Don't you dare to lay a finger on her!" He
faltered at first, then began to run for the door. It led to a long, dark,
winding corridor that seemed to have no end. Finally he reached the
concealed door that led out to the forest, and darted into it.
Jezebel ran blindly through the forest, her cold, naked feet soaked
with the moisture of the grass. Tears flowed down her cheeks as her asshole
burned mercilessly by the friction of the anal plug. She tripped, fell and
cried out in pain.
*Get up you spineless cunt!*
"I can't," she sobbed. "It hurts too much!"
*Then take it out, whore! Take the plug out of your delicate shithole
you damn fuck! Now!!*
She clawed against the slim leather straps desperately, until she
managed to snap them off the plug. She bit her lip and moaned as she slowly
drew it out.
*Now move your dainty shit-smeared ass!*
"Get out of my head!"
She tried to cast out the voice inside her skull, but it was too
strong, forcing her to move again against her will. The effort to control
her body, her mind, and her forceful race were taking a great toll on her
After a three miles and a half she saw in the distance a tall,
ominous hill. Her heart smashed violently against her rib-cage, demanding
to be let out.
*Go on! Run! Even if your lungs burst, you damned mortal bitch! Run!
My patience is waning!*
"No!" She screamed.
*Yes... oh yes... I have waited so long to get my revenge on my
Shadow-Brother `Malcolm'... so long... Now climb the hill! Do it!*
Her legs were numb as she tried to climb the hill. When she reached
the top the voice stopped. She collapsed, and rolled down the other side.
Her momentum carried her whirling body ten feet beyond the foot of the
hill, until she finally managed to stop. She lay on her back panting, her
naked body shivering with cold.
After several minutes she managed to get up and look around, wincing
because of the pain in her asshole. The dim light of the stars showed her
that she was in a clearing, but not alone.
Across her, about 20 feet beyond the center of the clearing, rose a
10 foot tall boulder with its top flattened. There were glowing eyes moving
restlessly around it, but the ones that struck the greatest fear in her
were the pair of red, baleful eyes of the creature resting atop of the
boulder. The black silhouette seemed to be that of a wolf, a very large
wolf. When it started to move she expected to see it stand on its four
legs, but it raised itself up menacingly on its hindlegs. She heard the
sound of tissue and bones creaking as it shifted its bodily mass. The
muzzle shortened, the forelegs stretching, the chest broadened.
Then the transformation stopped.
What she now saw on the boulder had humanoid shape, and it was a man,
or at least something male because, whatever it was, it wasn't human. What
revealed to Jezebel the sex of the creature wasn't as much the powerfully
built body, as it was the animalistic size of the solid erection of the
beast. She became fascinated by it, even lusted after that inhuman,
hypnotic phallus, but the familiar voice that issued from that alien throat
dispelled all that instantly.
"Jezebel," hissed the vitriolic voice. "Brother `Malcolm's' pet." He
jumped down from the boulder, landing with lupine ease on his powerful
legs, the gargantuan cock barely oscillating with the change in momentum. A
silvery bead of pre-cum disengaged from its tip, drawing a gossamer arc as
it fell. The creature chuckled. "Not any longer."
"What do you want? Who are you? God, stay away!"
"God? I'm flattered. In a way, I'm just that to my brothers and
sisters here," he made a gesture with his sinewy arm. "I am Amon, Lord of
the Dire Wolves, Master of Hell Hounds, and now Lord of Brother Malcolm...
or shall I call him Saint Aidan? The Holy man who renounced to his holiness
and embraced a mortal life. The one who killed my mate Clistheret!"
"What?" She answered faintly.
"Oh, how I miss when I roamed with her, when I brought to her human
babes for her to feast on, her tireless urge, her eternally hungry,
scalding womb (how it strangled and milked my aching cock), the carnage we
made on the unwary, her pure evil and corruption... Gone! But now... Oh,
but now..." He approached, displaying a set of long carious fags. "Now I
have his woman." He jumped and landed over her before she could move. She
pounded him hard with her fists, but it was like hitting a granite wall.
Then she kicked him with all her might on his huge testicles. Amon just
narrowed his eyes and licked his lips with his black, pointed tongue. "I
liked that, woman. If my Brother enjoys pain, just think how much more I
do. Kick me again." His words were, in fact, a command, for she lost
control of her limbs once more and hit him on his groin again.
"Ahhhhhhhh..... deliciousssssss......" His long tongue passed over her
breasts neck and face. She felt the tip of his monstrous cock rubbing up
and down the slit of her pussy.
"You will kill me if you... you..." she managed to say.
"Why, my love, that is precisely the idea. But not immediately, oh
no. You will love it at first, filled as you have never been filled before.
Then it will hurt, it will tear your womb apart, flooding it with my
boiling milk, and you will slowly bleed to death. I'll drink your blood
mixed with my cum, then I'll throw your carcass in front of Aidan's gate
and laugh! Laugh... before his turn comes!" He pressed his cock against her
pussy, but she clenched its muscles. He snickered, pushing harder. The
inhuman cock split her wet labia open slowly, chafing her clit with its
rough skin as it forced its entrance. She screamed when the head went
through. "Now, I'm going to give it ALL!"
Jezebel gasped in pain as Amon was suddenly pushed away from her by
something white and fast. The shape was smaller than Amon, but it struggled
fiercely with him, its solid blows drawing out curses and grunts of pain
from the creature. Amon managed to toss the shape away, but he just rolled
and stood again on his two feet.
"No! She is mine! Mine!" Amon lunged at Aidan, throwing him on the
floor and clawing at him. The beast then uttered a long, terrible howl and
stiffened. Aidan pushed the beast's bulk away from him, his dirk, which now
shone with preternatural radiance, impaled deep in Amon's chest. He got up
"Away! Depart Eyes of the Night! Your Lord is no more! Begone!!"
The eyes stepped back into the darkness and faded. Aidan went to
Amon's body. "No you will not die yet." He drew the dirk from the
creature's body and a globe of light issued from it, vaporizing the blood
from the blade. In front of Jezebel's entranced eyes Amon moved, and got up
with a grunt, the red light in his eyes dimmed. "I condemn you to roam
these forests as a mere dog, fiend of the abyss, for as long as a dog may
live. Then you may join your foul mate in her hellish domain. Now run,
butcher of children! Depart!" Amon shuddered and shrank swiftly into an
ordinary dog, which darted away quickly with the tail between its legs. The
sounds of the flight of the broken beast died in the distance.
A tense stillness covered the woman and the man.
"Malcolm...," she hesitated, breaking the silence.
He looked at her sadly. "Aidan. Jezebel, If you want to leave I'll
understand. I kept much from you. The road I traverse is filled with
terrible shadows, and-"
"Don't," she approached, placing her hand timorously on his wounded
chest. "Malcolm... Aidan, I don't care what you're called, or what your
past was. I... I am fascinated... and I love you the same. I want to stay.
His face cleared slightly. "You are brave." He sheathed the dirk,
darkness falling like a veil over them once more. "Or a fool..."
"Show me a man, or a woman, who isn't."
Jezebel sat on the corner of the crescent-shaped desk beside the
window, looking out into the forest.
"It looks so different in the daylight."
"Appearances are often deceiving..."
She looked back at the doorway.
"Yes," she smiled.
Aidan walked into the room, one arm hidden behind him. He wore a
simple black, turtle-necked sweater and gray jeans.
She looked again at the window. "I think I saw a dog outside."
"There are many dogs in these woods." He embraced her.
"Yes." She frowned. "What are you hiding?"
He drew back. "Me? Hiding?" He exposed his concealed arm. "Ah, this?
For you." He gave her a small silver box.
She extended her hand, took the box, and raised up the lid. There was
a ring inside it, shaped like a Celtic knot, with a small emerald embedded
on it. "A new ring!" She jumped into his arms, hugging him hard. "Thank
you," she whispered.
"If you like, I can put it on for you. Its not difficult."
"I'm looking forward to that."
I will ignore all requests for: reposts, e-mailing parts, ftp/gif/archive
sites, and subscription requests. These stories get deleted immediately after
they are posted. For more info on the ARCHIVE postings, read the FAQ posted
bi-monthly to a.s.s.d. And don't send me chain mail- I'll notify your sysadmin.