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Feast

By: slyc_willie



(Author's note: The following is an official entry into the 2009 Literotica Halloween Story Contest. Please note that this story falls into the non-erotic category. This tale is the result of a perverted and morbid idea I experienced early the night before I composed this. It is not intended to excite, but rather to cringe. With all that said, read on, if you dare.)

* * * *

In the culinary field, there were few who could match Anthony Leach. Though English by birth, he had gained fame in the United States, where his gastronomic masterpieces had been hailed for their sensory perfection for decades. Working in – and in some cases, owning – some of the finest venues for his craft, Anthony was the grand old man of his field. Such as Emeril and Booby Flay tossed sauté pans in his shadow.

Even in retirement, his reputation was well known. Some say he had become a touch senile, for he always invited the finest chefs in New York for a Halloween repast that was beyond measure. They asked him, "why Halloween?" His response was, "all the other good holidays were taken."

The kitchen of his house was the envy of any four-star gourmet restaurant, with the finest stainless steel appliances, walk-in freezer and cooler, and enough counter space to prepare a dozen meals at once. The cabinets were filled with all manner of fresh spices, many of them rare and expensive, and every form of cooking utensil and container. A master of the unusual when it came to cuisine, his guests could always look forward to something delightful and different, from fresh conch served with a cilantro-chile bean salsa to delicate puffer fish sushi, the fish in question residing peacefully in their tank until he needed them.

"But not this year," he had said to one of his guests several days before, when he had sent out invitations. "I am going classic this Halloween. I am preparing a true carnivorous feast. No vegetarians allowed." He had ended his declaration with a wink.

His young wife – just under half his age and the fourth woman to bear the coveted title of Mrs. Leach – had spent the previous days in assisting her husband and happily so, for she was a culinary professional herself and her restaurant – and skill – had both benefited from association with the famed chef.

This year's feast was to be absolutely unique, Anthony had decided. The meat had to be prepared carefully, to maximize both its fatty content for flavor, and the lean, strong muscle for tenderness. He wanted to insure this was the best bird he had ever prepared. Normally, he did not prepare the entire thing, but he desired complete perfection, both literally and figuratively. So not jus.t the breasts and thighs, but also the whole of the legs, the neck, belly and even head.

"Sandra, be a dear and get me the skewers?" he called to his wife as he sliced thigh meat. The aromas wafting from the baked flesh were all but intoxicating in their headiness.

His wife did not answer with words; she knew better, Anthony knew, than to speak when he was preparing a masterpiece. He always trusted her to assist him with professional decorum, knowing he did not mean his mannerisms as any sort of rudeness.

Leaving the thigh meat for a moment, he returned to the stove where simmered a trio of sauces which included his patented spicy mole, a creamy lemon butter sauce made with Franciscan Chardonnay, and of course, the world famous Anthony Leach D'Avola demi glace, which enhanced the flavor of any red meat.

Adding the last touches of spices to the various sauces, he set them on low heat just as the door chimed. While he was certainly wealthy enough, and his house large enough, to afford a butler, Anthony Leach had always considered servants to be the mark of pretentious laziness.

Wiping his hands, he walked briskly from the kitchen through the hall to the front door, opening it wide with a grin. He gasped slightly as a small carved pumpkin was thrust in his face.

"Boo!"

Anthony stepped back with a chuckle, making room for his first pair of guests, Mr. and Mrs. James Polk. One of the most infamous food critics of the late twentieth century, Polk had once offered the following unique appraisal of Anthony's skill in the kitchen: "I will forever be happily resigned to the fact that I shall never have anything detrimental to say about Mr. Leach. He takes culinary risks others would shy from, yet masters them with unique aplomb."

Polk and his wife were nearly of Anthony's advanced age, but they had entered into their sixties with graceful aplomb. Dietitians and plastic surgeons were, of course, to be thanked for that. The dutiful Mrs. Polk offered a hand glittering with diamonds and other gemstones for the master chef, who kissed her fingers politely.

"I can always count on you to maintain the spirit of the season," Anthony remarked as his first guests entered the house. He set the miniature jack-o-lantern on the secretary within the hall.

Polk sniffed the air and crinkled his brow in wonder. "Is that pork I smell?" he asked, then all but looked upon Anthony with a fawning expression. "Oh, please tell me you are serving your award-winning bacon-wrapped scallops!"

Anthony chuckled with a wink. "Your keen nose betrays you," he said. "In fact, I am preparing the most delicious bird this evening."

"Ah. Duck?"

"You will have to wait and see," Anthony said as he took his guests' coats. "Go on and fix yourself a drink in the parlor. The others should be arriving soon."

Leaving the Polks as they headed down the hall, Anthony returned to the kitchen, inhaling the scents of his creation upon stepping through the door. For a moment, he savored the aromas, before resuming his preparations.

The thigh meat was finished and layered, and he was just setting the poached, fluffy pieces of breast meat in place when the chime sounded again. The guests this time were Representative Alfonso and his second wife, who offered congenial salutations along with a bottle of fine Chilean wine.

"Ah! Cabernet," Anthony remarked. "And a 1993, no less. Fine choice."

Alfonso smiled and clapped the gastronome's shoulder. "I may have no skill in the kitchen, but I know a good wine."

"You certainly do," agreed Anthony. "Please, to the parlor. I am almost finished, and there are yet more guests to arrive."

When he was interrupted for the third time, it was by the DeRenzos, famed owners of a small but exclusive chain of restaurants in their name. Not only the patriarch and his wife arrived, but also their comely young daughter, Nichole. Anthony bent low to kiss the young woman's hand as they were introduced.

"I must apologize," he said to the family before departing for the kitchen once more. "Normally, my wife plays the host, but I have put her to work, slave driver that I am." He winked disarmingly. "Go on and mingle. The meal will be ready in short order."

Everything was finished by a quarter before nine o'clock, the optimum time for such a sumptuous feast in Anthony's opinion. He needed his largest serving cart, upon which he arranged the various serving platters, keeping everything carefully organized so as to maximize both the aesthetic appearance of the meal as well as to preserve its natural harmony.

But all was not yet ready, though Anthony remained mindful of his guests.

"Is it ready?" asked Polk as Anthony reappeared in the parlor, carrying a silver serving tray.

The aged gastronome chuckled. "Not quite," he responded. "But I have brought an appetizer. A teaser, if you will, of the sensory joy to come."

The guests surrounded him in a semi-circle, looking eagerly upon the items displayed upon the tray. Thinly-sliced slivers of braised meat dominated the center, arrayed in a rather suggestive fashion with a single blossomed radish at the top. The aroma was rich and suggestive of rosemary.

"What do you call this?" asked the statesman, leaning over the platter.

"This one is Rosemary's Lips," Anthony said to Alfonso. He took a cocktail fork and stabbed one of the slender pieces. "Perhaps the sweetest part of my wonderful bird."

He looked to the young DeRenzo daughter, who stared back with the blushing demureness of a young doe. "To the fairness of youth goes the first taste."

The girl smiled sweetly, cheeks reddening as she was suddenly made the center of attention. "If you insist," she whispered, delectably leaning forward and parting lush red lips.

"I certainly do," Anthony replied, slipping the savory tidbit onto the girl's tongue. He watched as the Alfonso daughter experimentally chewed, then beamed. She swallowed timidly.

"It's delicious," she declared.

Anthony grinned proudly. "Of course it is," he said, handing the platter off.

Mr. DeRenzo stepped conspiratorially close to the master chef as the others sampled and commented on the appetizer. "A tad suggestive, don't you think? The way that dish was laid out, well . . . it somewhat resembles a, um, woman's area, if you know what I mean."

Anthony chuckled. "Do you think that was accident?" he asked rhetorically. "What sweeter part of a woman is there?"

DeRenzo smirked and nodded. "Too true," he agreed. "Well, I had better sample some of it myself before it is gone."

Anthony glanced to the kitchen door. "If you can bear another short wait, I will see if my wonderful wife has another tantalizing appetizer for our bunch."

The other man's eyes sparkled. "Then I won't keep you."

Returning to the kitchen, Anthony checked the ovens and the sauces, deciding all was nearly ready. He took up another serving platter, carefully transferring the finely-ground contents of a steel bowl into it. Surrounding the pate with crackers, he returned to the parlor.

"I did not think those sweet lips would sate you enough for the time being," he said to his guests as the platter lead the way into the room. His comment resulted in sedate chuckles from his finger-licking guests.

"So what is this?" asked Mrs. Polk, eying the new dish speculatively.

"My finest pate," Anthony replied. "Finely-minced liver, with orange peel and ginger, mixed with my own secret seasoning." He winked to the matronly woman. "I dare say it will not last until the main course, but it will satisfy and leave you begging for more."

"Ooo . . . ."

Anthony stepped back, prideful heart beating as his guests all but set upon the new treat like vultures upon a fresh kill. His return to the kitchen was scarcely noticed. The pate was all that occupied them, inspiring more moans, murmurs, and comments of approval.

Once more within the center of his abode, the room within which his skill was honed, Anthony clapped his hands and took a deep breath. This will be the finest feast in all of history, he thought. It is nearly a shame it can be enjoyed by only a few.

 Ah, well . . . .

"Sandra, is the table prepared?"

His wife said nothing, but he took her mute expression as confirmation.

"Then let us impress our guests, shall we?"

Together, Anthony Leach and his wife entered the dining room, the far wall of which opened into the parlor, where mingled the chef's guests. They turned with gluttonous anticipation upon hearing the cumbersome rolling of the large cart. Eyes widened and mouths watered. Everyone wanted to know what awaited them beneath the large sheet covering the cart.

"If we are ready, ladies and gentlemen," Anthony prompted loudly. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Good God, man, what have you got under there?" asked Polk, eyes glimmering widely.

"In the artistic sense, the most unique and incomparable dining experience you will ever enjoy," Anthony responded with a proud glow. "But if you prefer technical details . . . sixty-two pounds of salaciously sumptuous meat, after the bones were removed. But that is not counting my famous asparagus au gratin, acorn squash mashed potatoes, and of course, my own Black Forest cake."

Mrs. DeRenzo's eyes bulged. "Did you say 'bird?' What sort of bird?" she asked. "Ostrich?"

Anthony frowned with a wry smile and shook his head. "I would not do such a thing," he declared. "Such gangly, ugly things, ostriches. No, this is the finest bird my adoptive country could hope to produce. And --"

With a flourish, he gripped the sheet and whipped it away, trailing steam and allowing the rich, bountiful aromas to roll through the air. The feast in all its glory was fully revealed to Anthony's guests.

"-- I have my beautiful wife to thank for the inspiration."

Eyes once filled with salivating expectation for a memorable feast now became horrified and morbid as they witnessed the sight before them. While the flesh had been denuded from the bone and prepared in various ways, the platters upon which the meat lay had been carefully laid out to mimic the position of a human corpse in repose. The arms and legs looked inauspicious enough, and could have passed for finely-prepared pork tenderloin.

But upon the central large platter lay the poached breasts of Mrs. Anthony Leach, the flesh puffed and glistening, nipples darkened and delicately flowered, sitting like tiny red roses upon the meat. Beneath those fleshy mounds were the various organs, darkened from roasting and prepared in numerous ways, but laid out in familiar patterns. Even the chitlin-like intestine wound a serpentine path beneath a bulging, haggis-like stomach and between stewed kidneys simmering quietly in bowls of broth.

The only thing not revealed was the head of the dead woman. But where it would have lain existed a large steel dome over a platter.

"I-Is that," began the young DeRenzo girl, pointing with a shaking hand. "Is th-that--"

Anthony looked to where the young woman pointed and smiled. "Oh! Of course! I cannot forget the best part!" He reached for the domed lid and lifted it away. "Head cheese!"

Men and women alike swooned and balked, stumbling away. Several regarded Anthony Leach with abject horror. They backed slowly away, inching for the door.

Anthony watched them, frowning in confusion. How could they not admire my greatest creation? My most delectable feast?

He stepped around the table, plaintively approaching those who now back-pedaled down the hall. "You're not leaving, are you?" he cried. "What about desert?"

"Desert?" shrieked Mrs. Polk, recoiling in terror.

"Of course! Chilled brains. Utterly fantastic!" Anthony kissed his fingertips. "I know they may not sound very tempting – brains are an acquired taste, I understand – but I have prepared them according to an ancient Borneo recipe. It took days, but they are perfect! As sweet and malleable as jelly!"

Mrs. Polk gasped and fainted, but was fortuitously caught by her husband, who dragged his wife swiftly down the corridor. In short order, everyone was gone, leaving the front door gaping open. The squealing of tires soon sounded from the large driveway of the house. Forlorn, Anthony watched from the stoop as his guests fled. His heart sunk heavily, even as he shook an angry fest in the chilly air.

"Well, the Devil take you, then!" he snarled viciously. "Just remember that I offered to share my wife with the lot of you! Now I'll have to eat her all by myself!"

Anthony huffed, perturbed, returning to the now-quiet dining room. The rich aromas of the would-be feast swirled about him as he took his seat at the head of the table. His face became sour and drawn. Absently, he touched the polished silverware flanking the plate before him, then let out a heavy sigh and straightened.

"It appears it is just you and I tonight, my dear," he said aloud, looking to the large cart upon which his wife-cum-feast lay. "That seems to have become the norm for us lately, hasn't it?"

Sandra, of course, did not respond. Anthony stared at the darkened flesh, noting the way his wife's lips, during baking, had become puffed and juicy in a way they had never been in life. Casually, he removed a plug or Gruyere cheese from one of the nostrils and popped it into his mouth.

"I suppose it is true, what they say," he remarked wistfully. "Genius is never appreciated by the masses. Where would we be without that first brave soul who deigned to dine on lobster? Or almonds? Or any number of other potential gastronomic disasters? We would be in culinary hell, that's where." He eased back and stared at the ceiling.

"Of course, the only drawback to all this," he mused at last, casting a wistful glance to his erstwhile wife's honey-glazed face. "Is that I can't ask you for my cigar after dinner."

-finis-

(Thanks for reading. I hope I haven't ruined anyone's appetite for the Halloween season. Please don't forget to vote, and feel free to leave a comment below..)

Feast



"A toast, to food, friends and fucking" 

Your eyes are shut, but you know your Master's voice as well as your own. If you opened them, the punishment would be swift and severe. Almost tempting as you have been lying on the table for over an hour, naked and motionless. You are cold, hungry, but most of all horny. Master has decided that you are to be dessert tonight.

All around you, the aroma of wine, the clicking of forks and knives, the sounds of nervous conversation. No one has touched you yet, Master hasn't given his word, but you can feel eyes all over you. The sexual energy in the room is an entity in itself. Slithering through the half-filled glasses, over the chatting tongues and all landing on you. You can't be sure how many people are at the table, but you have picked out at least six distinct voices aside from your Master, some of which you recognize. 45 minutes ago, this bothered you, but now you are aching for it to start. Your cunt dripping already.

Master stands up, you feel him place something on your stomach. Fuck, it's his wine glass. You can't spill this. "Tonight we have gathered to celebrate Pet's graduation from Prospective to Slave" Really, they applauded politely. You almost laugh but catch it before it comes out. You feel the wine glass teetering a bit and panic. Get it together. Master continues, "Pet has served me for exactly a year now, and you all get to share in her final test. If Pet does well tonight, she will get her collar." Again with the applause. Mercifully, he lifts the glass for a toast. With the clinking of the glasses, you relax a bit.

You hear the dishes being cleared, the moment has arrived. You are excited and nervous.

"Friends, shall we share dessert?"

No one speaks. All at once chairs are pushed back from the table. You can feel the energy in the room shift from anticipation to excitement. It starts with hands rubbing your ams and thighs, as if no one wants to be the first to touch something more daring. The moisture dripping from your wet lips sends a shudder up your whole body. Your nipples harden with these first touches, anticipation of the feast to come.

A familiar hand on the top of your head, pulling your hair back, hot sour wine breath whispering in your ear "Make me proud". You shudder involuntarily, moving for the first time in what seems like forever. You want to answer that you will, you will make him proud, but know that doing so would end it immediately. You sense that he sits down beside you. You can't see but know that he is watching you and waiting for you to make a mistake. You are used to being tied down, but trying to keep still without ropes is proving very difficult.

Contrasting the warm hands on you, you start to feel tiny drops of liquid, cold and sticky. The smell of fresh berries solves the mystery. They are being squeezed all over you. Coating your naked skin in sweet juice. Once the flowing liquid stops, tongues replace the hands. Soft lips, rough beards, hot breath, all mixing with the nectar. Your head is swimming with lust. Tongues start to move over your nipples. This is your first real test since the wine glass. You must not react. Keeping still is harder than you'd imagined. A mouth (female?) covers your left nipple and bites down hard then softly kisses it better. The gasp sticks in your throat.

Several hands gently grab your legs and slowly start to open them. You are starting to hear buttons and zippers opening and clothes hitting the floor. The Master's rules are that you may not move, but you may be moved by the guests. If you move yourself, it's over and your year of the Master's training is gone in a flash. You are desperate to keep training with the Master, he has taught you so much about yourself. You have never felt more satisfied in all your life than you have in this last year. That is why you need this. You need to obey the rules. 

One bold guest is up on the table kneeling between your legs. You are open and exposed for all to see. His rough hands are the first to touch your cunt. One finger sliding up from the bottom to your clit in one smooth motion. Your leg muscles tighten, still being held down. Your face trying desperately to not show your desire. He uses two fingers to part your lips and instantly another finger is inside you. There is a murmur in the room as if everyone has been waiting for someone to make the first big move and now it has happened. The feeling of the mood changes...it's more aggressive now. Hands squeeze a bit tighter, teeth bite harder, and everything starts happening at once.

Someone grabs your head, turns it towards them, pulls your lips apart and suddenly there is a cock thrusting in your mouth. You can't move your head, so the guest is fucking your mouth for you. You have to lay there and accept whatever happens. His balls swinging onto your cheek as he keeps the rhythm up. He lets you breathe just enough, but it feels like you are going to choke on his cock. In the back of your mind you are trying to keep calm and not react. Stay motionless.

You have been concentrating so much on your mouth, that it takes you a minute to realize that you are being fucked at the same time. There is a hand working your clit and a massive cock in your cunt. The hands holding your legs open are rubbing and massaging. A female voice in your ear says "You are doing better than I did. I'm going to break you". Fuck, really, he invited his last Pet, the one that failed? It's all so chaotic. 

Both nipples suddenly explode in pain as she twists and pulls them straight up lifting your back off the table. This isn't fair, Master can't let her be here. 

She releases her grip on your tits and pushes the man away from fucking your face. You can feel her climb the table and feel her legs on either side of your head. You have never been with a woman before tonight but you can smell her cunt and feel that it is inches away from your face. Instinctively you want to stick your tongue out and taster her. Master would see that as failure and she knows it. You somehow manage to keep your face still. She rubs her cunt on your lips slowly leaving her wetness on your face. The smell is intoxicating.

The cock inside you is pounding faster and faster as you feel the familiar pulsing deep in your cunt. Your muscles gripping it as your unknown lover fills you up. He gets off of you and is quickly replaced by a new mystery lover with a shorter, but thicker cock. The last Pet is laughing as she spreads her juices all over your face. This is not fun anymore. It's cruel. You have made it so far and been so good. You are worried that your frustration is going to show. You are aching to just break and attack her clit with all the sexual hunger that is building up inside you. It would prove nothing if you made her cum for you, it would only disappoint Master.

On either side of you, the unmistakable sounds and feeling of men masturbating over your body. Climaxing one right after the other one, splashing your tits and stomach with hot milky cum. Last Pet rubs it all over your skin. She takes her sticky fingers, pries your mouth open and starts feeding you what is left of it. You badly want to lick her fingers clean, sucking on each one slowly, tasting all of the love these mystery lovers have for you. Your tongue stays firmly in your mouth as Last Pet pushes her fingers deeper into your mouth, choking you, making you gag. Is this considered moving? You are starting to panic, which makes your breath gasp and shorten even more. Your eyes are watering and your saliva is running down your cheek as she fucks your mouth with her hand. On the verge of passing out, you finally hear Master softly, yet powerfully say "Stop!"

Instantly, the fingers disappear. You gasp for air you had been deprived of. Hands leave your body and are replaced with warm, wet, soft towels. Some of the guests wipe your sticky, sweaty body clean, you know that this is to prepare you for Master's turn. The test isn't over yet.

The scent of leather fills your nostrils as Masters gloved hand covers your mouth. The whip strikes silently and harshly across your thighs. Dammit, you weren't expecting that. You flinch and hope that he thinks it was involuntary. You realize that the glove is not to gag you, but to protect you from the guests seeing you wince in pain. Master is being kind, he wants you to succeed. You bite the glove as thanks and to try to dull the beating. Nothing...waiting...silence...PAIN...again...and again...and again. Blood rushing to the impact points make your legs hot. Tears are running down your cheeks, this time because of the welts that are surely starting to rise. The glove lifts from your mouth, letting you know that there are no more lashes coming.

The final test is Master claiming your cunt as his. The rest of this night has been a mystery, but this you have known for a year now. His skillfully and swiftly flips you on to your stomach, your muscles thankful to be moved finally. He pushes your knees underneath you so that your ass and cunt are completely exposed to the guests. Master moves your whole body so you are at the edge of the table and easily accessible for him. His fingers open your sore, slippery lips wide as his robe falls open. The anticipation is killing you, he is moving slow on purpose, knowing that you are so wanting this, so ready for this. Finally, in one shockingly fast motion, he is deep inside you. His hips pumping his thick cock in and out at an incredible speed. This is too much for you to take for very long. You have to hold off until he cums, otherwise this whole year is for nothing. You try to block out how good it feels, how turned on you are, how amazing this whole night has felt. Tears of joy and pain start to spill from your eyes. He grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head back so he can whisper in your ear "You are so close, I can feel your muscles grabbing my cock. Hold off for a few more minutes, don't disappoint me." 

You get to that headspace where everything is dreamlike, like it's not even you anymore being used on the dining table. Eyes closed, the pleasure rush takes over and fills your whole body. You are not cumming yet, but know you can't hold off much longer. "Pet. Cock." Slamming back into reality, you realize he is about to cum. This is your permission to turn around and finish him off. Your muscles that have barely moved in hours scream at you as you hurry to move and take his cock deep inside your mouth. You jerk the base as fast as you can in the tempo you know will do the job. His cock starts to flex inside you, "Don't spill a fucking drop". Your final order as he fills your mouth with his cum. After you swallow and lick his cock clean, his orgasm settles. He kisses you on the forehead with the biggest smile you have ever seen on him. 

"Good Girl!"



Feast



The LGBT Festival, nicknamed by attendees as the Pride Circus, was an array of lights and wonder against the backdrop of our sleepy city centre. Having grown up in such a small, underwhelming place, I'd never seen something quite like it past dark. The name 'circus' suited perfectly. It wasn't that the festival was a freak show. Rather, it was a welcoming environment that enticed the curious and gave home to the smitten. It was a circus not because the people there were a sight to be seen, but because the glamour and magic of such a wonderful festival was captivating. Yet it was fleeting, as though the intensity of the awe and excitement could only possibly be appreciated for a day or two at a time. Mundane life threatened to take over at any moment, making the joy of the festival a stronger sensation. Lesbians, Gay men, Bisexuals and the Transgendered were united for one night of sensationalism, partying and indulgence before the real world took us over once more.

I was lured, like many young women, by the promise of a world born anew. I had lived a life until now that was more conservative than I had realised. Sure, I hadn't been raised in a strictly religious household, or even a homophobic one, but the Pride Circus drove home just how grey my world was before. When I had begun questioning my sexuality, I had done so in a vortex of isolation. There had been nothing like this that I had known of: nothing that relentlessly preached acceptance and fun. It was as though I had woken up to discover I was a mythical creature that could live one night as myself, knowing every second that tomorrow I would have to tuck my wings away. But tonight, I would be a Pegasus.

I had been brought into this world by a tiny elf-like girl named Wendy. Wendy and I had known each other in high school, but shared little in common. It wasn't until she and I reunited at our University's LGBT club that we discovered we had a shared interest: we were both gay. We had forced ourselves to date for a while, pecking in cinemas and groping in backseats, before we realised it wasn't going to work out. Instead, we settled for a friendship that matched that of tourists meeting in a youth hostel: we would explore this world together, but would forget all about one another once we were comfortably back in our normal lives. And it was Wendy who had called me one day telling me all about the LGBT Festival that was coming for the weekend. She had read about it in the back of a student magazine published by a group of leftist go-getters at our college. 

"The article said there was going to be musicians, and comedians, and even a drag show!" she had told me over the phone. I was sitting at the bus stop, waiting for a ride home. I stubbed the toe of my shoe into the ground and tried to remain subtle for the benefit of the strangers around me. God forbid they know exactly what my phone call was about.

"Oh, really?" I replied. "I'm sure they'll all be local acts. Nothing special."

"I don't know. The article says they'll have Mistress D on Friday night."

"I don't know who that is."

"Yes you do," Wendy huffed. "We listened to her single in the car the other week. She's the crooner from Ceduna. Remember?"

That made no sense to me, and I suspected Wendy had me confused with someone else she made out with in cars, but I humoured her.

"Oh! From Ceduna, you say? Such a far off land!"

"Shut up," she bit back. "Oh my god! I just saw! Guess who's going to perform on Saturday night!?"

"Who?"

"Guess!"

"The Ceduna Crooner?"

"Ha-ha, very funny," she growled sarcastically. "No! Taylor Fitzgerald! And Andrea Joyce!"

Those were names I had heard of. They were comediennes Wendy and I had discovered on one of our many forays into LGBT blogs and forums. We thought they were fantastic. We loved them, not because their acts were especially funny, but because they were daring and unlike anything we had known. They were both open lesbians with short cropped hair and fashion styles somewhere between 'androgynous' and 'gender queer'. Andrea joked publicly about her sex and love lives, all involving women, and we found that positively risqué. And Taylor bellowed her routine with the sorts of insecurity and deep voice only an overweight performer could have. 

Wendy and I began giggling with excitement. We chattered hurriedly, making plans to meet the comediennes back stage, and even follow them to their hotel rooms! My concern for offended eavesdroppers was long and truly gone. The thought of actually getting to meet these women, of having them in our tiny city, right in front of us on stage, made every inch of me tingle with excitement. 

"I'm on my way to the ticket office right now," Wendy told me. "I'll buy you a ticket too."

The LGBT Festival started about a month after that conversation. Wendy and I arrived, bursting with anticipation. I had gone to great pains to make sure I looked as cute as possible that night. I straightened my curls and wore a headband with a big, white bow on one side. I had made sure to wear a darling floral dress that flattered my shoulders and stopped well short of my knee. And I'd brought my fake leather jacket to fight off the late night chill. I felt like a doll, and I was sure I'd make an impression on my idols that night. Wendy had met me at the bus stop and we walked to the festival square together, arms intertwined at the elbows, giggling about how far the square was from the hotel Taylor Fitzgerald was rumoured to be staying. We were teenagers all over again. 

"I think I'm going to kiss Andrea tonight," she said. She flicked her cropped fringe to one side of her face, trying to see her way through the dark city.

"Are you serious?" 

"Of course! Wouldn't you want to if you could?"

"How are we going to just walk up to her and kiss her? Won't there be security around the place?"

"Yeah, probably. Let's try and meet her backstage. I'm sure she'd let us in once she catches sight of us."

I laughed. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah! Listen," Wendy leaned in closer to my ear. "I heard that a friend of a friend of mine was actually invited up to Andrea's hotel room when she was here for a comedy festival two years ago. And they totally hooked up!"

I had to laugh at that. 

"Laugh all you want, but it's true! They get groupies wanting to hang out with them all the time. They'll be used to it by now. So I'm sure two more tonight won't be a big deal for them."

I paused for a moment in thought. "Are you saying that to convince me, or yourself?"

She threw me a whimsical smile and tugged me towards the festival square.

I wasn't sure what I had expected from the Pride Circus, but what I saw certainly defied those expectations. There were tents and booths parked on the trimmed grass of the square, all glittering with fairy lights and the promise of delights within. The people circling around the lawn seemed dissuaded by the dark, joyless night around. I couldn't help but feel a bubble of excitement well up in my stomach, and not just because of Wendy and my plan to meet our comedy idols. It felt like I had found my home. I was both comforted and thrilled for the unknown. 

I had never felt that way before.

A rather plain woman sat at a booth that said 'Information'. We made our way towards her. The dim night did nothing to flatter her complexion. Only up close, when the glittering lights cast a glow on her face, could I appreciate her understated beauty. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes glowed behind a pair of dainty looking glasses.

"Hi there guys," she said as we approached. "How can I help?"

Wendy spoke for the both of us. "Hi! We're looking for the tent where Andrea Joyce is going to perform."

"Ah, no problem. Can I see your tickets?"

I produced mine from the pocket of my coat and passed it to her, my hands trembling a little. She took one quick glance at it, then at Wendy's, and beamed at us. 

"Okay, you want tent one. It's the one just over there. Seats aren't assigned. Just sit wherever. And your tickets say you're also seeing Taylor Fitzgerald? Her set is on after Andrea's, in the same place. You don't even need to move! If you want to use the bathrooms, they're over there," she gestured loosely with her hand. "They're just portables, but they're clean. Just make sure you knock before barging in. Some people get a little excited here. And cans of drink are a dollar a pop if you show the canteen your ticket. Otherwise, three dollars. Is there anything else I can help with?"

I shook my head. "We're good. Thanks."

Tent one loomed above us like an enticing paradise. Lights were shining from inside, and the occasional rustle of voices told me an audience had already gathered.

"Come on," I said to Wendy, tugging on her arm. "We're going to be late."

We entered the tent with little fanfare and saw a variety of people already seated on little plastic lawn chairs. There were a few women around who dressed in the same androgynous way as Andrea herself, but there were also dainty old ladies and glamourous femme fatales, and even a handful of burly men sitting on the far side, sipping from frosted beer cans. Wendy and I were unable to get a seat close to the stage, which was a length of thick, elevated panelling that didn't seem entirely safe. So we sat a little far back, a bit left of centre. I took off my jacket and rested it across the back of my seat. 

"This is exciting!" Wendy squeaked.

I looked around, trying to determine where Andrea would come in from. At first I thought the tent was as simple as it seemed and she would walk in from the same entrance we'd used. But subtle observation showed there was a false wall to one side, and behind it was surely the backstage area. I figured it would be much too small for Wendy and I to slip into after the show. We would have to think up another plan.

When I told Wendy this, she suggested we wait at the front of their rumoured hotel after the show. This had a lot of flaws. What if they were late? What if it wasn't their hotel at all? She didn't seem to mind those possibilities. Wendy had always been the sort to crave adventure regardless of consequences. It was a whimsy that I couldn't mimic. I was far too cautious for that. But I decided, perhaps foolishly, to put my faith in her for tonight. If worse came to worst, at least we would have had a fun night together. 

It was a few minutes more before Andrea Joyce came out from a slit in the false fabric wall and paraded onto the stage. She grinned widely beneath her oversized glasses. She was much smaller in person, but just as dapper as ever. She wore a sweater with a button up shirt underneath, and a flattering pair of tight jeans. 

"Hello everyone!" she cheered in a stage voice that needed no microphone. Still, the festival company had set one up for her anyway. She paced towards it, bursting with enthusiasm. The audience around us cheered for her. I clapped along too. "How are we all tonight? It's bloody freezing here!"

She launched seamlessly into her routine. She joked about her girlfriend ("Aw," Wendy sighed, disappointed), her dildo collection, and her homophobic grandma. It was just like her routine on all the videos Wendy and I had seen. She was just as delightful in person. I was excited to meet her. 

I'll admit that I enjoyed Taylor's performance much more. She was hilariously deadpan, which always appealed to me. She made remarks about her parents and her co-workers, but mostly she made fun of herself. I found her very charming, and I itched with excitement to meet her.

After a little more than two hours, the shows came to an end. My cheeks were sore from laughing, but I'd had a great night. If I went home right then, I wouldn't have regretted it. But we were girls on a mission, and I was more determined than ever to meet my new favourite people.

The idea that we wait outside the hotel was a better one than I'd thought. The girls disappeared into the backstage and we lost sight of them completely. By the time Wendy and I came back from a quick trip to the portable toilets, the lights in the tent were off and it seemed completely abandoned. We would have to wait by the hotel anyway.

I became a little nervous as we ventured off. Perhaps we weren't the only ones to do this. Maybe the women had disappeared so quickly to avoid the rush of fan-girls. My only salvation came from the fact that the Pride Circus was held in our small city, not some place huge like Sydney, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it hadn't even occurred to anyone else. And I was sure Wendy and I were the youngest there, and the Pride Circus had an 18+ restriction in place, so maybe everyone else was too old and wise to be so frivolous. But we weren't. We were young and stupid and we were ready to do some young and stupid things.

The hotel wasn't far. We caught a taxi from a taxi rank nearby and he whizzed us to the hotel in the CBD in a matter of minutes. The hotel itself was more lively than the streets were at that hour. Lights were still on in most of the rooms that towered up high above us. The lobby itself was as bright as daylight.

"Should we go in?" I asked. I slipped my hands into the pockets of my coat, trying to hide my nervousness.

"Maybe we should wait out here. I think they're still coming. Besides, it's not like the clerk's just going to give us their room numbers."

The path from the street to the hotel lobby was bordered by inclining square pots with trimmed plants inside each one. The pots were as thick as fences and were impenetrable from the other side. We used them as seats, perching on the very rims and waiting in the dark. This was surely the creepiest thing I had ever done. The cold, quiet night dulled my enthusiasm. Maybe this was the wrong thing to do? What if Taylor and Andrea were really freaked out by us? What if they called the cops? I wanted to share my concerns with Wendy, but I knew she'd make fun of me. Despite all this time we'd known each other, I still wanted to impress her by being as adventurous as she was. So, I sat in silence. I exorcised my nervousness by tearing up a corner of my ticket in my pocket. A shame, really. I had hoped to keep it for my scrapbook. 

A taxi pulled up at the front of the hotel after a while. Out of it spilled a handful of drunken women, including Andrea Joyce and Taylor Fitzgerald. The girls around them were all noticeably older than us and dressed in skin tight dresses and skirts. I hadn't seen any of them at the show. Andrea had her arms around two girls' shoulders and demanded Taylor foot the bill. With an eye-roll, she did. I suspected she was much more sober than her counterpart, considering her flawless ability to count out bank notes. Andrea, meanwhile, had her tongue down one woman's throat as the other fondled her own breast. I looked nervously towards Wendy, daring her to make the first move and announce our presence. She didn't. Instead, we sat in the shadows cast by the trimmed bushes, watching the scene unfold. The Andrea sandwich struggled to make its way to the hotel without untangling, but they managed. It was helped by the presence of an eager door man dressed in red who swung the front door open as soon as he saw them. Taylor, pulling up the rear, took her time. It was clear she was trying to distance herself from the group, perhaps for a moment's peace. Andrea and her buddies had disappeared inside by the time Taylor was near us. I seized my opportunity.

"Hey," I chimed. Taylor jumped and clutched her heart. 

"Jesus Christ! You scared me."

"Sorry," I said with a blush. "I didn't mean to."

"We were at your show tonight," Wendy said. "It was great. We were hoping to get to meet you."

The night made it difficult to determine Taylor's reaction, though the light filtering from the hotel lobby made her eyes glow. She seemed uncomfortable to me, but Wendy must have thought she was flattered. 

"When you talked about your mum cleaning your room and finding your stash, I almost wet myself, I laughed so hard!" she went on. "It reminded me of when my mum found my cigarettes in my purse."

"Did it?" Taylor was cordial, but struck me as impatient. I was sure she'd been through this routine countless times with smitten young girls just like us. 

Wendy was not discouraged.

"We saw Andrea's show, too. We were hoping to meet her, but I guess she's pretty busy."

Taylor flashed Wendy a courteous smile, and her teeth sparkled like stars against the night. "Yeah, I'll say. She gets like this after shows. A little worked up. Did you say you smoked?"

Wendy nodded, and Taylor probed her for a cigarette and a light. 

"You're not allowed to smoke in the hotel," she said, taking a drag and puffing out a grey cloud. Wendy lit a cigarette of her own and offered me one. I turned it down. Smoking had never been my thing. But I watched Taylor closely, as well as I could. The slight burning flame afforded me a look at her lips. They curved in a seductive way I'd never noticed in anyone before. They looked juicy and tempting, yet unattainable. The way the soft curves embraced the butt of her cigarette made me wonder what her lips could do to me. I felt passion flicker within me. I wanted her to touch me. But I had no idea how to make that happen. I turned to Wendy and psychically willed her to get us into that hotel. Please, Wendy! Please!

In the end, it was Taylor who gave me what I wanted.

"You know, if you really want to see Andrea, I can take you up. As long as you know what you're getting yourself into. She can be a little... frisky."

Fireworks went off in my head. Yes! Yes! Yes! We were about to hang out with two of the coolest people in the whole world! And who cared if they wanted to feel us up or make out a bit? Wendy and I had been discussing that for days! We were more than willing. Outwardly, I tried to play it cool. I nodded and said: "If you're willing to put up with us, we'd love to."

"Sure," Taylor said with a smile. "You seem like cool girls."

Her gaze lingered on me for just a moment before she dropped her cigarette to the floor. She stubbed out the flame with the toe of her loathers, and Wendy took the hint. We rose to our feet and clutched our bags. Wendy stubbed out her cigarette on the rim of the pot. And then we, like eager ducklings, followed Taylor Fitzgerald inside. 

The doorman held let us in without a word. Taylor led us straight to the elevator, stopping for nothing. We all got in and rode it up to the fourth floor. When we got out, Taylor busied herself checking the room numbers as we walked down the oddly golden hall. I slipped my hand around Wendy's, squeezing it to make sure this was real. She clutched back at me, and I could feel the excitement pulsing beneath her skin. Taylor stopped outside of room 409. She knocked briskly. A strange array of sounds came from inside, including the rattling of a wine bottle rolling on the ground. Panting and ruffled, Andrea swung the door open. She was no longer wearing her glasses, and her eyes were small and beady. 

"What?" she said, breathlessly. 

"These girls wanted to meet you," Taylor told her, disinterested.

I felt like a little child interrupting her parents late at night. Andrea sighed with annoyance and looked us over. Her gaze made me feel insignificant. This was a bad idea. I tried not to notice when her eyes landed on my breasts. 

"We're sorry if we're bothering you," Wendy said. "We were at your show earlier, and we're big fans of yours. We wanted to come and say 'hey'."

Andrea's face lit up. 

"Why don't you ladies come join me?" she asked, opening the door a little wider for us to fit through. "We'd love to have you."

Wendy leaped at the opportunity, brushing by Andrea and straight into the room. She paused for a moment to look back at me, challenging me to follow. My stomach was in knots. I tried to think of a way out of this. 




Feast



Behind me, Taylor shifted her weight. "I'm gonna go grab some more wine," she said. My heart jumped at the chance.

"Oh, I'll come and help you," I said. My enthusiasm wasn't well hidden. Taylor didn't object. She turned and walked the short way to her room across the hall. Behind us, Andrea shut her bedroom door. Wendy was gone. It was just Taylor and me, alone in the world.

Taylor slipped her key card out from her wallet. 

"She can be a bit much for some people," she said, unlocking her door. "I get it. You're not the first person I've had to save."

It was clear Andrea was indulging in casual sex with every woman in her room. I had never been involved in anything like that before. I just prayed that I wouldn't have to go back once Taylor found some wine.

"Don't worry," she went on as we entered her empty room. "You don't have to join in if you don't want to. You can hang out here until your friend's done. Word of warning: you might be waiting til morning."

What surprised me about Taylor was how reserved and quiet she was offstage. Unlike Andrea, whose personality was so boisterous that it was clear comedy was just an outlet for it all; Taylor had fine-tuned her stage voice to deceive the audience into thinking she was effortlessly loud and confident. In private, her voice was soft. She fidgeted nervously with her hands, and chewed on her lower lip when she could think of nothing to say. I felt at ease with her. She wasn't some larger-than-life figure anymore. She was a gentle, shy human I could understand. I was exactly the same. I didn't need to impress her with a fake spirit of adventure like I did Wendy. I could just be myself, as conservative and silent as 'myself' was.

"Do you want anything to drink?" she asked me as I stood in her hall, bashful. "Wine, beer, water? I think I still have some of those tiny bottles of milk, if you want coffee or something."

"Yes, please," I replied, a little too eager.. "White with two, please. If it's not too much trouble."

She insisted it wasn't and flicked the kettle on. "Sit down if you want," she said as she emerged from the hotel's kitchen. "I'm sure there's something on TV."

I took her cue and sat down on the sofa. It was a little too soft and I sank in a bit, which caught me by surprise. As I steadied myself, I felt her eyes on me. It wasn't unwelcome. 

"I don't know where the remote is," she said as she sat down beside me. "I don't watch much TV."

"It's okay," I said. "We don't have to watch anything."

"Ah, good. This late at night, it's probably all infomercials anyway. You ever heard of that vibrating cuticle remover? I've seen a lot of ads about that lately. Looks like an accident waiting to happen, if you ask me."

"I thought you didn't watch much TV?" I challenged her. She laughed a little nervous laugh.

"Alright, you caught me. I watch way too much. Usually, ladies don't find that very impressive."

My heart fluttered. She was trying to impress me? Little me? I fought back the urge to grin like an idiot. 'Play cool', I told myself. 

"I'm really into this one show at the moment," I confided in her. I fidgeted with the cuffs of my jacket as I did. "The show about the law firm in the nineteen-thirties."

"Razor's Edge?" she offered. "I love that show!"

I jumped on that. "Do you really? I don't know anyone else who does!"

"It's pretty niche. They've been talking about cancelling it for a while now."

"I really hope they don't. At least, not before we find out what happened to Elizabeth."

"Didn't she run off with Harry?"

"That's what she wanted everyone to think! But Harry told Geoff last season that he hadn't seen her since New Years'."

"You know, I actually met the guy who plays Geoff."

I was stunned. For a moment, I had forgotten that Taylor was actually somewhat famous herself. It made sense she would have hung out with actors at some point. "Did you really? What's he like?"

"He's actually pretty cool," she replied. She kicked off her loafers. "Which is surprising, since his character's such a douche."

"I guess that means he's a good actor."

The boiling kettle came to a screeching crescendo. Taylor rose from her seat and went back into the kitchen. Now alone in the living room, I slipped out of my coat. I was starting to feel very comfortable around Taylor. All of Wendy and my plans to hook up with her were starting to flash through my mind. Sure, the foursome situation had been overwhelming and scary, but I felt very relaxed sitting on that couch. And the more time I spent with her, the stronger my yearning became. Perhaps she wanted me, as well. 

She came back out with two steaming mugs. She sat one on the coffee table before me, and kept her hands clutched tightly around the other.

"I really need this," she said, taking a small sip. "You wouldn't think working in comedy would be very tiring, but it is."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. It probably doesn't help that I'm here, keeping you up late."

She smiled over the rim of her mug. "Don't worry about it. I'd be up anyway. I don't sleep so well away from home."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I guess it just happens like that for some people. Andrea's found a way to get around it, though."

She was referencing the sexual abyss that stole Wendy away. I smiled and grabbed my coffee mug. "What does her girlfriend think about that?"

Taylor shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I never told her. 'See no evil' and all that." 

"Fair enough. What about your girlfriend?" I probed. "She must worry about your groupies."

"Ah, the thing about that is," she lowered her mug to the table before us. "My girlfriend is more of an artistic license than a reality."

"You mean she's not real?"

Taylor tapped her finger to the side of her nose and winked. "When I talk about my girlfriend on stage, it's really just a bunch of stories about different exes rolled up into one neat package. Truthfully, all this travelling leaves me little time for dating."

"Andrea finds a way around that."

"Yeah, well, no disrespect to your friend, but Andrea would fuck anything with a cunt."

The bluntness of her tone threw me a little. "And you? You must get lonely sometimes, right?"

She looked sideways at me. Her face contorted into a matching smirk. "Doesn't everybody?"

I nodded, suddenly quite solemn. I used a big sip of my coffee as an excuse not to talk for a few moments. Taylor took the cue to change subject.

"So, that girl you were with," she said. "Is that your girlfriend?"

I shook my head. "No, we're just friends. We went to high school together. I mean, we tried to make something happen, but it didn't really feel right."

"So you settled for being friends?"

"Yep."

"Lesbians are like that," she said. "But, if it's not right, it's not right. You can't force chemistry."

I looked at her and noticed that her arm had draped along the back of the couch behind me. I felt the flare of lust flash within me. I lowered my coffee to the table and shifted so I was facing her completely. 

"And what about this?" I ventured. Her growing passion for me made me bolder. "Is this right?"

"You must think I do this all the time," she said. A slight moment of insecurity flickered in her eyes.

"Not at all," I replied. A reached my hand out to meet hers, resting awkwardly on her thigh. Her fingers felt soft and smooth. I wondered how they would feel brushing along my body. 

This act gave Taylor courage. She leaned in and seized my lips with hers. They were as pillowy and gentle as I'd hoped. She took my lips with a desperate strength I hadn't expected. I parted my lips, begging her to search me with her tongue. She did, and I felt completely taken. Her tongue filled my mouth and explored the surface of my own. She enticed me to wrestle with her. Our lips became slippery from the fight. My stomach leaped with anticipation. My hands grabbed the chest of her suit coat and I pulled her on top of me. She came willingly, and smothered me with her warm, soft body. I wrestled to remove her coat. She let it slip off of her arms and we tossed it aside. I targeted the buttons of her white blouse, struggling to undo them in the heat of the moment. She used one hand to steady herself on the couch while the other stroked along my leg. I cursed myself for wearing stockings. They dulled the sensation of her touch. Her hand moved higher and higher, pushing the hem of my dress to my stomach. 

She broke our kiss. She rose to kneel, towering above me. Beneath her, I trembled. My hands raced along her front, trying to get her shirt out of the way. She began to unbutton it, hastily. It was quite a show. Gradually, more and more of her milky skin became exposed to me. Her breasts, swollen into luscious mounds, peaked out from the top of a delicate, feminine bra. I became overwhelmed with the desire to tear at it with my teeth and set her free. As more of her shirt came undone, I saw her creamy curves spilling into folds above her tailored trousers. I wanted to kiss every inch. Unable to control myself any longer, I pounced. I wrapped my arms tightly around her neck and kissed her deeply. I felt like an animal in heat and I was acting on primal instinct. The human barriers of politeness and dignity were long forgotten. All that controlled me now was the fire between my legs that craved every part of her. 

Taylor began to strip me, too. Her hands found the zip of my dress and tore down, hastily. Together, we slipped the frock straight over my head. I had to let go of her to do so. I didn't like that much. Taylor ripped off my bra and threw it the floor somewhere. She used the force of her body to press me down onto my back, and I let her. Having her on top of me satiated the need I had to be touched by her completely. I slipped out of my shoes as I went down, leaving me only in stockings and panties. This proved no obstacle to her. She slid my stockings down the lengths of my legs, drawing out the motion to build my urgency. Once they were off, she inched my legs apart, exposing the wet spot on my panties to her. I wanted to blush. Who knew how big the spot was? But she wasn't put off. She kissed directly at the apex of my slit, finding my clit almost instantly. I squeaked. She gave a guttural, grunting laugh. Hooking one finger through each side, Taylor tugged my underwear off and threw them into the abyss where the rest of my clothes lay uselessly. 

I was completely bare and exposed now. I watched her carefully for a reaction. I had never been this naked, this on display, before. No one had looked at me with quite the same look of hunger as she had now. And no one's gaze had made me feel this alive or this aroused before. I needed her. If she didn't touch me soon, she wouldn't have to. The heat building within me threatened to hurl me over the edge at any moment. Sensing my need, Taylor traced the length of my slit with her finger. I moaned when she reached my clit. She flicked it once, then removed her hand. I was audibly disappointed. She silenced me by placing her finger, slick with my juices, to my mouth. I took it, sucking my cream off of it. I tasted sweet, yet tart. Like something familiar but entirely unknown. I wanted her to taste me, too. I wanted to share this experience with her. She needed no encouragement. She took back her hand and grasped my ass cheeks. Her tongue reached out for the bubbles of moisture oozing from me. She scooped some up and drank. Her pursed lips latched onto my clit. An electric shock rushed through my body from the contact. The pressure felt divine. Taylor began to suck on me gently. I felt like I would burst already. I clutched at her hair, squeezing her closer to my core.

"Oh, oh," I panted. I couldn't stand keeping my eyes open any longer, soI closed them, letting myself be wholly swept away by the sensations she was causing. 

Taylor never broke contact with my clit. She removed one hand from my ass and traced the source of my wetness with her fingers. She effortlessly found my gaping hole. Expertly, she slid one finger in with no resistance. Then, she slid in a second. And a third. She filled me up. She left her fingers still for a moment, allowing me to adjust to the feeling. Then, she curled her fingers upwards. All three of them. They hit a part of me that had never been hit before. Not even I had gotten to that sweet spot when I tried alone. I moaned and grunted unintelligible words, pleading her to push deeper, harder. Her fingers stroked in and out of me, never once failing to hit me where I needed it most. I began moaning in tandem with her thrusts. They became faster and faster. 

"Oh, God!" I cried. "Taylor!"

She growled with pleasure as she sucked my swollen clit. She was relentless. I could feel my orgasm rising. I sensed that she could, too.

"Oh, God! Oh, God!" I chanted. "I'm going to come!"

And I did. My body lunged forward as climax hit me. My juice gushed out like a waterfall, spilling over her hands. Taylor was still thrusting into me. I couldn't stand it. I screamed as she pushed me over the edge. She suckled so hard on my clit that I thought she would swallow it. 

Slowly, I came back down. I was dizzy and exhausted. She released my clitoris, but continued thrusting inside of me. Her pace slowed until she came to a complete stop. I was breathless. I tried to thank her, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, I sighed audibly, sounding like a wind chime. I opened my eyes, but they wouldn't focus. I felt vulnerable. Taylor rose on the sofa, peering over me like she had before. She was watching cautiously, for what I couldn't say. I tried to watch her back. Gradually, my eyes came in to focus. I noticed how slippery her face was. She was grinning with pleasure. I felt so completely overwhelmed with desire for her right then. She was gorgeous.

I begged her, as well as I could, to finish undressing.

"Take off your pants," I said. "I want to taste you."

My confession set a fire alight behind her eyes. A small part of me was surprised with how bold I had been, but I didn't care anymore. I knew what I wanted, and I was determined to get it. 

Taylor did as she was told. She stood up from the couch and dropped her trousers. Her underwear followed. Then, her bra. She stood before me in all her luscious, naked glory. I wanted to devour her. Her breasts looked as delicious exposed as they had hidden away. They were large and spilled over her bulging stomach. Her nipples were huge, like table coasters. They were red and swollen and craved my touch. I pounced on her and seized her left nipple between my lips. I suckled as hungrily as she had done to my clit. She sighed and threw back her head, revelling in the sensation. I felt a thrill rush through me. Having power over this gorgeous, full-figured woman turned me on so much. I wanted her to pull my hair and call me 'mummy'. But I had no idea how to ask for that. So I just suckled her nipples, one after the other, until she urged me to travel lower south. 

The order came quickly. Taylor's voice was hoarse with arousal. 

"Please," she said. "Taste me."

Feeling in control, I told her to sit back down on the sofa. She did. She faced me where I stood and, without being told, spread her legs wide. Below a soft jungle of hair I found her gaping, red pussy. It was slick with juices and it needed me. I licked my lips and bent down, resting on my knees. I dove in. I had no experience in this before, so I tried to mimic what Taylor had done to me. I placed a soft, gentle kiss on her bulging clit, causing her legs to twitch with pleasure. Then, I extended my tongue and lapped at it in well-timed intervals. One, two, three. One, two, three. Above me, Taylor shuddered.

"That's it," she cooed. "Lick my clit."

I felt courageous now that she had encouraged me. I traced the fingers of my right hand along her thigh. Her skin was as soft and creamy as it looked. She felt like silk. My hand reached her pussy within moments. I wanted to tease her by dragging out the anticipation, but I couldn't wait. I slid my index finger deep into her wet core. Her hips rocked a little as she purred.

"Yes, baby. Fuck me. Fuck my cunt."

I curled my finger as she had done, hoping to bring her the pleasure she had given me. I rubbed back and forward, stroking the roof of her pussy. Encouraged by her increasing moans, I slid in my middle finger, too. She seemed to really like this. I smiled to myself. I lapped at her clit even faster. By now, I was truly fucking her. 

"That's it! Yes! Yes! Ohhh, I'm gonna come, baby! I'm gonna come!"

I rode her straight to the point of ecstasy without slowing. I wanted her to burst like I had. I wanted her juices all over me. I wanted her to scream my name. I kept fucking her as hard as I could. Before I knew it, she was screaming.

"Ohhhh, yes! Oh fuck, yes! I'm coming! I'm coming! Fu-u-u-uck!"

Her hips bucked wildly. I struggled to stay attached. Her clit slipped away my lips, but I kept my fingers plunged in her. I fucked her for the length of her orgasm. I watched her closely as she came. Her face was red and contorted and beautiful. I felt like I'd just painted a masterpiece. I was so proud of the beauty I'd created.

Taylor calmed down eventually. She was flushed and exhausted. She looked at me with her big, dopey eyes. I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her. I wasn't sure how to do that on the stiff sofa. As her breathing steadied, I slipped my fingers out of her. She grabbed my wrist and took it to her mouth. She sucked her juices off of my fingers. I felt like I would come again just from that. When she was done, she released my hand. I climbed back up onto the couch beside her. We were both sweaty and tired, but there was something intense between us now. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and hugged her to my chest. She nuzzled into my breast. At some point, we fell asleep like that: sitting up, stiff and uncomfortable, but perfectly content. 

The next morning, we barely said a word to each other. It felt like anything I could say would just spoil what time we had left together. We drank cups of coffee in silence, teasing each other's feet beneath the dining table. And then we dressed; me into my clothes from the day before and her into a pair of jeans and a button down shirt. She and Andrea were going to fly out to a comedy gala in New Zealand later that day. I felt a little emptier learning this. Taylor took my number down and promised to call me the next time she was in town. I took her at her word. We kissed one more soft, tangled kiss. And then I left. I crossed the hall for Andrea's room and knocked on the door. Andrea was, to my surprise, as alert and eager in the mornings as a soccer mum would be.

"Oh, you want Wendy? Sure! I'll just go get her."

Poor Wendy was still asleep. She came out to me rubbing her eyes and wearing someone else's shirt to cover her dignity.

"Just let me get dressed," she said, disappearing back into the bedroom. No one else was awake yet, either, from what I could tell. 

Wendy didn't take long to dress. She kissed Andrea goodbye and we left the hotel. I wrapped my arm around Wendy's, locking out elbows together so I could lead her around. We weren't far from a bus stop, as it turned out, but we had to wait quite a while.

"So," I said to her as she rubbed her blurry eyes. "How was your night?"

"Fine," she answered. Her voice was hoarse with sleep. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Have you ever..." she trailed off. She bit her lip and considered whether or not to really say what she wanted to. I waited patiently for her to make up her mind. She nodded solemnly to herself before starting again. "Has anyone ever... uh... put a toothbrush, the handle bit, up your... um... you know?"

"Vagina?" I offered.





Feast



Wendy shook her head. "No... the other one."

I was stunned. "What?"

"I just want to know if it's normal!" she said so fast the words tumbled out of her mouth like clumsy racehorses. "Like, is this something I need to expect in life? Or is it just once off?"

"I couldn't say," I answered honestly, trying my hardest not to laugh in her face. "It's never happened to me."

"Oh..." she fell back into silence. She looked down at the ground and I could see her cheeks were red. She was blushing! Poor Wendy.

"Look," I offered. "If you were into it, I don't think it's as weird as you think. Maybe some people do it all the time!"

Her face brightened at this. She was able to look me in the eyes again. She smiled at me, grateful that I had saved her pride. "Thanks," she said beneath her breath.

"But, Wendy," I looked at her, concerned. "Is that why you're not sitting on the bench right now?"

There was a moment of silence as scandal crossed over her face before we both burst out laughing. It felt good to go back to normal again. I thought for sure something in me had changed last night. Maybe it had. But at least I had Wendy with me, all the same.



Feast For The Beast



19 year old Miranda sat in the chair while her mother stood behind her brushing out her long blondish brown hair. The white dress she wore, settled perfectly around her plump body. Her 36C tits, pressed tightly against the bodice. Her virgin pussy ached for something that it would never have.

See, today is Miranda's birthday, unfortunately it is also the day she is going to die.

Once every 50 years, the dragon that lives around the cliffs above the village where Miranda grew up, demands a virgin sacrifice. She must be an adult and she must come of her own free will. 

She is to be taken to the cliffs at sundown, chained to the pole there, gagged then left alone. No man or woman was allowed to see what happened after the sacrifice was left. If any one was found there by the dragon, they would be killed and the village would be destroyed.

It had come down between Miranda and another girl on who would be the sacrifice, when they heard the dragons roar and knew that the time had come once again. 

Miranda agreed when she realized the other girl had just turned 18 two days before and was engaged to be married.

Her parents had begged her to reconsider but she had been adamant. Now she sat at her window, while her mother pulled up her hair as she waited for sundown.

Miranda walked silently beside her father as she walked with the men from the village towards the cliffs. "You don't have to do this Miranda." He said quietly as they neared their destination.

She turned to him with a smile, her steel gray eyes sparkling in the suns fading light. "Yes I do daddy. I'm not willing to have the village destroyed and Nick took Victoria's virginity last night." Her father looked at her in surprise. "They told me today. Nick isn't willing to lose the woman he loves just to save the village."

Her father's eyes darkened with anger. "They will be driven from the village for this." He swore with vehemence in his voice.

Miranda touched his cheek. "Perhaps, but it is done. I am the only virgin over 18 left in the village. So I must do this. I would rather give up my life then see the home where I was born and raised destroyed." She kissed him softly then moved towards the pole with the shackles waiting for her. 

She turned her back to them then leaned back against the pole and the mountain wall. Her arms rose above her head, her ankles spread apart. A leather gag was placed over her mouth to smother any screams she may make. 

She closed her eyes while she felt the cold metal clamp around her wrists and ankles. When she felt the man pull away, she opened them to look into her father's watery eyes. He kissed her on the cheek, and then stepped away.

The men watched her for a minute, and then slowly one by one they all turned away. As far as they were concerned she was already dead. The village would mourn for her and a gravestone would be placed in the cemetery with her name. Her name would never again be spoken; she was no longer in this world. It was as if she had died of natural causes or a disease, she just ceased to exist for them.

Her father was the last to turn away. He gave her a watery smile and told her he loved her. She nodded, and then watched him follow the others back down the hill.

Miranda stood there, bound and gagged while she waited. She watched the sun make its last attempt then slowly lower over the mountains. She looked down over the water as she waited for some sign, then she heard the sounds of powerful wings beating against the sky. She lifted her eyes and gasped.

The dragon was at least 30 feet long from the tip of his head to the end of his tail. Green scales covered his body; his mouth was open showing razor sharp teeth, as smoke furled from its nose. Sharp claws came out of its body as it landed lightly before her.

She watched in fear, as its green eyes moved over her body. She closed her eyes when she felt smoke flow over her. When she opened them again, she gasped against the gag. He had turned her dress to ash. She stood naked before him.

She flinched as a long scale with a sharp claw attached touched her stomach then lowered to between her spread legs. "My name is Xavier." The dragon said as he touched the top of her pussy. "If you please me, I will let you live. If you do not, I will kill you. Do you understand?"

Miranda tried to speak through the gag but all that came out was a low moan. Since that didn't work, she nodded vigorously. She had figured on being his dinner, but if she had a chance to live, she was going to take it, whatever it entailed.

Xavier lifted his eyes back to hers even as he lowered his scaled claw down between her legs. He spread her pussy lips open then lightly touched her clit with a sharp claw. 

Miranda gasped when he first touched her, and then moaned as it moved around her clit, stimulating it. Her eyes darkened with passion as he turned her body on. She had played with herself many times over the past year, but her fingers didn't feel near as good as his claw did.

She watched as he lowered his huge head. She cringed at first but when all he did was stick out a long tongue, she relaxed. 

She watched his tongue as it moved between her legs, sliding into her virgin hole. "Mmmmm..." She moaned against her gag as he slowly tonguefucked her.

Xavier kept his claw moving over her clit as he slowly slid his tongue in and out of her virgin body. When his tongue brushed against her barrier, he moaned low in his throat. He kept expecting the villagers to send a maiden that wasn't pure to him but so far they had actually done as he demanded.

Miranda was moaning around the gag as he pleasured her with his muzzle. When she felt his other claw, wrap around her breast, she gasped again but all he did was caress it.

Xavier lifted his eyes to hers, watching as he slid his tongue deep inside her and pushed her closer to release. Her body was moving against his snout and claws, as cries escaped her lips through the gag. He felt his cock rising out of his sheath and smiled. 

He slid his tongue faster and deeper inside her and heard her cry out against the gag as she pressed her body hard against him. He could hear the shackles clinging against the metal as she humped against his tongue. 

"Mmmmmmmph, mmmmmmm, Agh, ugh..." Miranda moaned against her gag as she was pushed quickly towards orgasm. She felt him lift her body a bit as he slammed his tongue deep inside her and screamed against the gag as her body suddenly stiffened in release.

Xavier kept tonguing her through her orgasm until she hung limply against the chains binding her. He finally pulled out of her body and smiled at her. "You will do. Let's see how well you pass the second test."

Miranda lifted tired eyes to his wondering what the second task could be. She found out quickly when she felt the shackles around her wrists and ankles give way. She dropped to her knees exhausted then gasped as she saw his huge cock rising in front of her face.

It had to be at least 12-15 inches long and at least 3 or 4 inches in diameter. She tore the gag from her mouth and looked up at him. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

Xavier grinned as he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her towards him. "You are going to take me in your mouth my dear."

"I..." Miranda's protest was cut off as he suddenly shoved his cock deep into her mouth. She managed to somehow get about 4 or 5 inches of him inside her but that was it. 

He seemed satisfied though because he gripped her head and started pulling her back and forth over him. "Suck me little virgin." he purred as he pulled her down over his hard shaft.

Miranda had never seen a real cock let alone had one in her mouth before and didn't have the slightest idea how to suck on one. Especially not one as big as his. She slowly moved her tongue over him and heard him purr in pleasure. 

He seemed to like that so she did it again while she let him move her head back and forth over him. When his claws stopped moving, she got the idea and started bobbing her head up and down over his hard shaft while she worked her tongue all over him.

"Yes, that is it; oh you are good at this. Is this your first time?" He asked lowering his eyes to hers.

She lifted her eyes up to his over his body as she nodded her head. "That is good, now suck me good girl." He shoved his hips forward and she almost gagged as he tried to slide into her throat. She lifted tear filled eyes to his and he smiled his dragon smile. 

"Swallow my sweet." He shoved his hips forward once again.

Miranda didn't understand why he wanted her to swallow. When he slammed forward again, she did as he asked and looked at him wide eyed as at least 2 or 3 inches of him slid into her throat. She breathed heavily through her nose as she tried to figure out what to do next.

Xavier however wasn't complaining. She had a tight throat that was caressing him. "Yes, that feels good." he pulled out letting her breath quickly before he slammed into her throat again. By the third time he did this, she got the idea and was able to take him on her own.

Smoke started unfurling quickly out of Xavier's nostril's as he forcefully fucked her face. "Oh fuck, yes, so good." he cried pumping hard with his hips as she sucked on him. She grabbed the base of his cock and began to stroke it.

"Yes, oh yes, take It." he purred as he fucked her face faster. Suddenly he pulled forcefully out of her mouth. Miranda was surprised until she watched a huge load of white stuff come shooting out of the head of his cock and hit her in the face.

She pulled her face away as he shot again and his cum landed on her chest and stomach. By the time he finished cumming, her body was coated.

Xavier was breathing hard as he dropped to all fours and his cock slithered back into his sheath. "I knew you would never be able to swallow it all." he said to her confused look. "I didn't want you to drown in my cum before I have a chance to have you."

Miranda had been wiping up his cum with her fingers and putting it in her mouth when he said this. At his words, she looked at him in surprise. "Have me?"

Xavier smiled as he lifted a claw and rubbed some of his cum into her hair. "Did you believe that was all there was to it? Did you expect me to kill you or eat you now?"

She looked at him curiously. "Well, yea. I mean I never expected what happened. I assumed I was going to die today."

When Xavier laughed, it came out as a loud roar and the cliff shook with the power of it. Miranda wrapped her arms around her body in fear as she watched him.

"Oh my dear, you humans are so silly at times." He lowered his muzzle down until it was nearly in front of her face. "I don't want a virgin sacrifice for a meal my dear."

Looking at him curiously, she placed a hand on his stomach. "Why then?"

He leaned closer as if divulging a great secret. "I am the last of my kind. At least I have never seen any. Even dragons have needs."

Miranda may have been ignorant about men but she wasn't stupid. She smiled as she pulled herself to her feet then wrapped her arms around his body as she lifted her eyes to his. "You don't want a meal, you want a lover."

He nodded, "But why the virgin? Why threaten the village?"

He moved slowly away from her and sat back on his paws. "Do you think they would willingly give me a lover? I prefer to be the first to sample the goods of my lover. Do you really think they are willing to hand over a virgin for me to take to my bed?" he laughed again although the cliff didn't shake this time.

"Oh no my dear, the first woman I took from them lasted three days before she died of fright. She was rigid and cold under me. Her heart finally gave out the minute I moved my snout towards her. 

After that, they were more willing, but you are the most willing of the women I have been with. That is why I demand that she come willingly, if she does not, there isn't much point."

Miranda watched him as she thought about what he had said. She had heard the legend growing up but now it made sense. "Every 50 years, you come down to the cliffs and demand a virgin sacrifice. She must be over 18 and come of her own free will." She tilted her head to the side. "Why every 50 years?"

He actually smiled at this. "Human's don't live as long as dragons do my sweet." He held a paw out to her; she noticed that the claw had been retracted. "Most of the girls I get are usually in their early to mid 20's. I don't understand why humans would wait so long but since it takes care of my needs, it really doesn't matter. Usually after 50 years, she is too old to please me anymore. I settle her in a cave and let her die in peace."

She took his paw and gasped as he pulled her against him. "I guess that makes sense." She looked up at him. "So what happens now?"

He smiled as he lowered his muzzle once again towards her face. She watched him, then closed her eyes as she felt his tongue slither against her closed lips. She wrapped her arms around his body, and then slowly opened her lips. 

Xavier didn't try to strangle her with the kiss. He let his tongue duel lightly with her own as he lowered his paw back between her legs. 

This time he didn't slide his tongue inside her but one of his claws. He was careful not to cut her and moaned as he felt her hump against him.

He fingered her for a minute or so while he kissed her then slowly pulled away. "Now we go home my sweet and I make you mine. Turn away from me."

She smiled at him seductively then turned so her back was to him. 

He wrapped one arm around her and lifted her body against his powerful one even as his wings pushed out. He kicked off from the ground, gliding into the night sky.

He was in flight, with her pressed intimately against him, when he snaked his long cock into her virgin snatch. 

She screamed out in pain as he penetrated her, but before long she was moaning like crazy as he slid his cock in and out of her with long, slow thrusts. His claws were wrapped around her body, holding her close to him as he fucked her while they flew to his home.

Xavier's hips pushed forward and back as he slithered deep inside her tight hole, his eyes closed even as he flew over the mountain to his cave. 

When they landed, he released her body and Miranda dropped to her hands and knees as she pushed herself back against him, feeling him slide deeper into her body. "Oh...It feels so good." She moaned as he slowly thrust into her.

Xavier lifted his upper body, watching as he penetrated her with his large cock. He moaned around his snout, sending smoke through his nose as her body caressed him. "You are very good. I think I will keep you." He groaned as he thrust into her harder and faster driving deeper with each penetration.

"Fuck me...Oh fuck me." Miranda cried as she felt her orgasm rising in her body. Her body was shaking with her thrusts against the dragon who was buried deep inside her. "It feels so good. Please make me cum." She begged.

Xavier licked at her back with his tongue as he wrapped one claw tightly around her body, pulling her more intimately against him as he continued to slide into her. "Ohhhhhh...Oh yes..." Miranda mewled when he ran his claw over her clit again. "I'm gonna cum." She screamed suddenly as her body convulsed.

Xavier felt her body clench around him. He closed his eyes relishing the feeling of her tightening around him but didn't stop his thrusts into her body. He just fucked her faster and harder while she screamed out in pleasure. 

He lowered his snout down over her back until he could reach her breast with his tongue. He wrapped it around her breast and felt her shiver. "Oh yes...I love this. Don't stop." She cried as she pushed herself back against him ferociously.

Xavier was surprised at how hard she was fucking him back. Most of his sacrifices were leery about having a dragon fuck them, but this one was welcoming him deeply into her body. She was begging him to fuck her. 

He wondered if what he had told her had any impact on how she was reacting or if it was just that she was as hot as he was. Her juices were coating his shaft and he had a hard time not just letting go.

He held her close as he rammed his cock in and out of her pussy while she begged for more. He pushed her into 3 more orgasms before he let himself find his own release deep inside her body.

After it was over, he covered her sleeping body with a blanket, and then lay down beside her with his wings tucked close to his body. He wouldn't need another sacrifice for a long time. She was younger then the others. He knew that she was an adult but he had overheard the villagers saying that she was only 19. It would be many years before she was too old to satisfy him anymore. 

As he rested a claw across her stomach, he knew that he would spend the next 50 years in sexual bliss with his virgin sacrifice.

The End



Feast for the Demoness



So tell me. What do you really want, she said.

I was thrilled and terrified. I knew this was a horrible idea. I also knew as I looked at her image that over and over every day. Back and forth fighting with what I thought I ought to do and what I wanted more than anything else. She kept changing her image. Revealing a bit more of herself each time. Then when the moon rose full she came to me in my dreams. Each time and each image pressed the same question further. What did I really want. 

I typed my reply as I stared at her haunting image. I think you already know what I really want. I hit send, expecting a reply maybe later that day or evening, instead it came back almost instantly.

Yes. I do.

The next instant images began flashing across the screen at a speed that barely allowed my brain the time to register them before the next image came. Hundreds. Thousands of images flooding into me.

All of them her. None of them the same. A picture of her began to form not on the computer screen. Rather it developed inside of me.

She was paler than any human I had ever seen. Her full black hair surrounded her and reached the ground. She seemed to be wearing a blackish veil like gown that also lay to the ground. It appeared to me to be made in such a way that I thought I could see through the material to what lay behind it. There was nothing behind it other than her bare body. I felt a lightening quick shiver race within my body. At the same moment I thought I saw full, wide, glistening black lips raise up for just a second in the hint of a smile.

I tried to tell myself to get up. That significant amounts of time were passing. That I had work that needed to be attended to and I was late doing it already. Yet I sat there transfixed and frozen as the images raced faster and faster across the screen along with a deeper and deeper dread in me. Something was not right. Something was very wrong and I needed to flee while I still could. I didn't move. I didn't take my eyes from the screen. I am not sure if ever even blinked even once.

What I was seeing was not possible. She was not possible. This was a simple online flirt site. This wasn't real. I was making it up. Wish fulfillment was all it was. Was all it could be.

The images raced faster. A full figured woman beneath the black gown. Long black fingernails on pale thin hands. Large breasts that swept up and were topped with giant dark aureolas ending with thick half inch nipples. Her hips were heavy, wide and round which made room for a very wide space between her thighs. Within that space hung impossibly long, dark, fat, throbbing, labia gleaming with her sticky clear secretions.

Then I heard her voice, thick, ancient, sultry, and utterly sensual over and over as if actually in my head. Give me your answer. Tell me what you really want. Then her images fired across the screen at such a blistering fast rate I couldn't even halfway grasp what I was seeing. I felt my body responding more and more to whatever those images were and my muscles became so tight and contracted as I sat there I feared they were all about to implode.

Then the images stopped, freezing a single image before me screaming in my head. I could see a hazy image of that pale, pale face and a crystal sharp image of swirling pure black eyes with no irises, but with living creatures of complete perversity straining to burst out. 

I was so scared to type anything back at all. I just kept staring at those eyes. Even though it was a still image. A simple picture. I was sure I saw things moving inside those eyes as if desperately attempting to press out of that world and into mine.

Turn it off I told myself over and over. Get up and get away. Yet I didn't. I felt like I couldn't no matter how bad I wanted to run. All I could do was sit there with my fingers still hovering over the keyboard. I don't know how long I sat there. What I do remember was at some point I felt an intense heat and then pressure against my groin. The heat and pressure kept increasing until I was keenly aware of me swelling in response. I felt a rush of heat and energy run from my groin to my face and thought I heard her throaty voice right next to my ear say, yes. Yes, give yourself to me, yes. Feel me on your skin.

Then I was typing at a reckless pace. What I really want is for you to be real. For you to come and take me. For you to come ravage and devour me. For no and for ever more.

I sat. And I sat. And I sat. For hours on end waiting for a response. Nothing. Not a single word or image. Nothing. I grew cold and achey. I grew frustrated and angry. In the end I just felt like an old fool who had tricked his mind into believing what I knew at the depths of my being could not, can not, and is not is not. It was a trick of some kind and nothing more. At last I went to bed.

I found myself in a dream. Clear and sharp as waking life. I was walking along a pebbly pathway through an old, abandon, cemetery late at night. The air was cool, the smell of decaying foliage was heavy in the air, and a thick slow moving fog shifted about all around me. Then I heard the soft steady sound of someone up head moving in my direction. Being fearful by nature and unable to see who was coming my way. I quickly slipped behind a large monument to hide and watch. For sometime all I heard were the regular footfalls still approaching even though the person was completely obscured to my sight by the fog. At last, at about five yards distance there was a part in the fog and a woman, no a nun, I realized took a few more swaying steps and came to a stop. Her face was concealed in shadow, but she wore a long black nuns dress and habit of with the white ring in front with the black fabric following down behind her.

What in the world is a nun doing out at this hour of the night in this odd graveyard, I wondered. I noticed her hips were wide making the fabric of her dress taut against them. Then I noticed how the fabric seemed to cling to her chest. I saw how her breasts pushed the fabric upwards and outwards. And with embarrassment I realized large protruding nipples threatened to rip themselves out to freedom. I chastised myself for staring. For the wicked heat felt spreading in my loins. I didn't dare stir from my hiding place. I feared to even breathe. Then I thought I heard a voice so close to my ear and sounding so real my head snapped to the left fully expecting someone to be standing right there by me. There was no one, but the moment I turned back I heard the voice once again. You're supposed to stare, it said as I watched this nun pull on a long wooden beaded chain the she had beneath her clothing. After a moment or two of pulling I saw an huge inverted cross slip out of the top of her collar and she held it in her left hand. I told myself I was imagining it being upside down. That it would be blasphemy for a nun to wear such a thing. I then saw her holding the short part of the cross and raise up the long part towards her shadow on concealed face. As she did that I caught a flicker of light bounce off what appeared to me to be black lacquered long fingernails. No I thought. Nuns aren't allowed to wear nail polish much less grow their nails long. I tried to peer through the shadow to catch a sight of their face, but it was as if the shadow shifted as she shifted preventing any sighting at all. The end of the crucifix disappeared into that shadow for a number of seconds. During this time I thought I saw her black dress covered arm moving back and forth towards her face. When she brought the crucifix out of the shadow it was covered in so much saliva it was dripping off of the cross to the ground and running down her arm. I felt fire brush up against my body and press in against my groin.

What on earth I said, and I am not sure I did not say it out loud. For as I watched her slide her right hand down along her dress and then slowly pull her dress up on that side revealing an unnaturally pale leg. I heard a throaty voice murmur, not of this earth, and I watched her slip the long end of the dripping crucifix past the bottom of her dress. I believe I both felt and somehow heard the crucifix enter her body. I watched her pelvis shift forward in my direction as her right hand moved the dress up above her hip partially exposing herself to me. I could now clearly see the full length of that huge cross spreading apart her enormous labia as she slowly slide it further and further up inside her. I heard her release an unholy moan as she pushed the crucifix upwards until it would go no further due to the beam of wood going horizontally. A second later I could see a heavy syrupy liquid moving down the inside of her thigh. I felt a strong force press up against my crotch. Heavy, firm, and unyielding it pushed harder and harder until I had to fight to maintain my balance. My eyes, despite the sensation, never left the sight of the nun.

Her pace with the cross began to quicken. She was sliding the crucifix out to the end and then driving it up into her with harder and harder force and greater and greater speed. Her moans were now like howls and her syrupy cum ran in a steadier and steadier stream along the length of her leg. I was practically wincing as I heard and watched her body jolt with the force she was driving the cross deeper and deeper into herself. A moment later I was certain I felt something vice like and sopping wet engulf my engorged cock as she let loose a scream like a wild beast and heavy cum gushed out of her soaking her dress and leg.

I was back in my room. I thought awake until I looked at the end of my bed and there perched on the railing the woman crouched. Her feet were some type of claws and she shifted them until she was perched directly over top of the large ball like knob on the end of the rail. Her swarming oil black eyes remained locked on me. Her thick black lips gleamed with wetness. I heard her in my mind, You wonder why you are like you are don't you. Terrified of what you are. Of what you fear is the true you. Yet each you heed the call. Give in to you bases being and fall further onto your depravity.

Then she wrapped her black finger nailed hands around the bottom of her nun dress and slid it up to her waist. She stayed the a moment. Hovering over the top of the rails six inch wide wooden ball her long pulsing labia were so big the bottoms of them were caressing the top portion of the ball coating it in her syrupy secretions. Ever so slow she lowed herself down onto the ball. Her labia spread, became more aroused and swelled thicker, as it enveloped the large ball. At first contact of her vagina with the ball her clitoris enlarged rapidly stretching down and then a very big black end extended past her skin until there was a inch of it protruding and a two inch round end dripping clear heavy syrup from it. She dipped her hand down and caught her syrup with her fingers and lapped it into her mouth. I thought I saw a forked black tongue catch it.

Mustn't waste that which is most sacred. This time she took both hands down and scooped up all that was going down the bedpost. Like lightening she brought it up to her black lips and voraciously slurped until all was gone. 

Now feel me around you she said at just above a whisper. As I watched in disbelieve she began a steady descent on the ball. I could see her body swallow it up as if it was a small and everyday thing. Then I felt hot heat, a squeezing pressure, and a sensation of slick moisture dripping onto my skin.

This is. This can't be real, I said to myself.

I then felt an increase in heat, pressure, moisture, and as she went further down on the rail post, I thought I could feel a slow tight movement going from the top of my penis and now midway down my shaft.

She slid the rest of the way down the post. The ball swallowed up and she just kept going down further and further on the rail post until her knees were up near her ears, cum was oozing out of her at an increasing rate. She sunk down the rest of the way to until the rail came to the cross rail and she could descend no further. A low husky moaning growl slipped from her, and then raised in volume and intensity.

The pressure around my cock was so strong. I felt wetness running down over my hips as I felt pressure pushing down on my shaft, pressing and pushing, like it was trying to get more and more of me in. A throbbing began first barely noticeable and then more and more powerful along with a great increase in the heat. I considered for a brief moment how it was getting hotter and hotter, but never felt like it burned.

Then her moaning growl skyrocketed as she launched her body up off the rail post, as she went up past the ball and out I heard an audible slurping pop.

I also felt a parallel sensation of the pressure racing back up my cock and off, then with a frightening fury she plummeted back down. She did not slow at all as she took ball and the full length of the bed rail inside her, I felt the pressure shoot down along my shaft and when it bottomed out on my cock it knock the air from my lungs as it struck downwards into my pelvis.

She howled and said, ah yes, this is quite delightful, and let loose an inhuman seemingly endless moan.

She shot up and plunged down, over and over, harder and fast with each time. I felt some kind of similar sensations in accordance with her every movement. As she struck down each time I thought this force striking me would shatter my bones. As she went up I felt my cock suck along and stretched. As she passed over my glans I felt like it was a ball and it was going to pull me out by my cock's root. I thought I passed out and came to over and over again each time it all felt more and more real. More and more intense and more and more like it would not stop until I was dead. She was going with such force now that the bed shook and banged with her motions. Her syrupy cum was all but gushing out of her and I felt my body and bed soaked in hotter and hotter wetness.

Suddenly as she plunged down there was an enormous crash and she shattered the frame of the bed. She landed right on her feet like she had done this a thousand times before. Her nun dress was rolled up and remained around her full and wide pale hips. Her muscled legs glistened with the coating of her cum. Six inches of the bed railing extended out from between her swollen pulsing black labia. Her clit was throbbing as well while her cum continued to flow out of her. She reached down with one hand, grabbed hold of the protruding bedpost and with swirling pitch black her eyes boring into mine drew it straight out of her body. This time I thought I caught a slight distending of her belly as the ball of the post came down and out of her.

Her syrupy cum must have been very thick as the bed railing she held up was made significantly large by the coating she had left.

She raised it ceremoniously to her puffy black lips, slightly parted them, and then in a blink, swallowed down the entire bedpost until her lips were pressed up against her hand. Her black eyes sparkled and shown, and she let out a deep satisfied moan. A moment later she was withdrawing it, the post moving back out of her throat like a snake swallowing a deer in reverse, but just before she had begun its withdraw. I thought I had seen her tongue, wet and black, forked and so long it had darted past the back of her hand and caught a large syrupy drip of her cum that had been destined to fall to the floor.

The tongue, if it had been there at all, was gone as quick as it came out. Then she noisily slurped off every drop of her cum from the bedpost as it past between her lips. She flicked her eyes to it for a brief moment. It looked utterly dry, just a broken piece of old wood, with a twist of her hand she tossed it to the ground. Her eyes fastened back to mine.

Now you, she said. Her nun dress unrolled and dropped back down to her ankles. But it seemed sheer now. I thought I could nearly see right through it. That I could see her still engorged clit and labia pulsing between her wide spaced legs. That I saw massive black nipples blazing on top of her large pale breasts while they leaked out a thin streams of dark milk. That I could see every glorious inch of her unparalleled flesh.

Then what I thought I saw was gone, replaced by a sensation of my groin being straddled and my hips and thighs being pressed in together by an unseen force.

Suddenly I could smell her face right in front of mine. The force against my lower body multiplied. Her smell, I knew it was her without a doubt, was unlike anything of this earth. The most amazing mixtures of inexplainable scents. Instantly I was flooded with a ravenous boundless hungering lust. Its focus. My focus. My purpose for living was only to satisfy her every unspeakable desire.

I heard her husky throat voice completely clear. Like she was right there overtop of me.

Open your mouth wide as you can.

My mouth burst open straining its entrance without me having any sense of its control. It continued to strain to make its entrance still wider.

That will do for now she said.

I felt an ocean of the sweetest, slickest, stickiest, most delicious nectar pouring inside my mouth. More and more it kept coming. An awakening fire ignited, then I felt a powerful muscled forked tongue invade my mouth behind the still pouring nectar. I felt that tongue fill my entire mouth and then plunge through my mouth and on deep down into my throat. My body jolted, flailed, and spasmed every which way and still the syrupy nectar of her cum and saliva kept flooding into my mouth. Her serpent like tongue slithered further and further down my throat. My nerves and muscles shot off bouncing my body like an electrified puppet as I lay pinned beneath her as she somehow enveloped my cock within her labia and then she clamped them down on it like a vice. I felt sensed my entire body and mind erupt in complete misfire. My body leapt about under her as though having a full blown massive seizure. I experienced wave after wave of unbelievable orgasm, but with her labia clamped down over my cock I was unable to cum at all. Eruption after eruption exploded away inside me until everything fell away and all was gone.

When I came to she was solidly materialized on top of me. Her pussy was oozing hot cum over my cock as she released her labia's hold on it. Her nipples leaked out black milk sufficient enough to make my chest wet where she had them pressed up against me. With exaggerated slowness she withdrew her incomprehensible tongue. Once out she paused leaving what appeared to be a foot of it waggling in my face. The forks so long they looked like they could have wrapped around my wrist. The still dripping wet midnight black tongue flexing and undulating making my blood bursting erect cock still trapped beneath her wet pussy, strain and pulse with a great new rushing flood of blood enlarging it far past its normal size.

She withdrew her magnificent tongue completely.

Worry not. There is so much more to come. I have only tapped the outer shell of what I will do to you. Once my sacred fluids have burrowed completely inside you. You will be mine until the end of your time. Where ever you are, whatever you are doing, no matter how much you try to fight and resist me. I will find you and you will draw me to you. To your flesh and your dreams. Soon your only desire and need will be for me to come to you and to use you to satisfy my insatiable lust. In a very short time nothing will feel real to you but me and your unrelenting burning hunger to be with me.

Then her unfathomable black eyes latched and drilled down into me as she leaned towards me. Until that time, she said, and her lips seemed extra wet, extra glossy, and black as she placed them to mine.

She said, with this kiss I seal our pact. Until your death we will not part. I now bind you to me now and forever more.




Feast for the Demoness



I felt her kiss envelope not just my lips but my entire physical being, then it pierced my skin and sank in to the depths of my soul.

Congratulations, she said, we are now wed, and I could hear her inhuman throaty laughter as she vanished before my eyes.

Days went by. Then a week and I had thought perhaps it had all been some fever some hallucination and then I was returning home through an odd bit of forest as a short cut from a neighboring town.

First there was a fast wisp of fog that blew across a curve in the road and then there she was standing in a heavy black ground length fur coat. I instinctively knew it was her even before I could see her face. I felt first in my solar plexus, then my mind, and then I felt my cock start to stiffen. As I closer I thought I could smell her nectar and sensed wetness slide down my penis.

My heart pounded as slowed the car to avoid running her over. I knew that running her over was what I should have done.

She swayed around to my open driver side window. Leaned so far down her breasts were slipping upwards to escape the provocative cut in the top of her coat. Her enormous black nipples rose up and along the thick double fur sided coat. The extreme contrast between coat, nipples, and her pale skin made it appear her skin was almost glowing. I was uncomfortably aware of the over obvious reaction my cock was showing to her presence.

Run me down, she said, followed by a throaty chuckle, looks to me like your cock would have been very disappointed in that decision.

She made a frightful crude slurping-sucking sound as she slide a large portion of her forked tongue out across her lips, copious amounts of saliva spilling out over her puffy glistening black lips, then drew her tongue back in until only a few inches of the forks remained.

She put her left hand up and caught her oozing saliva with it.

Open your mouth my husband, she said. I complied all the while aware of a voice in my head screaming not to do so.

Good husband gets a glorious reward, she said, taking her overflowing cupped hand and turned it sideways over top my gaping mouth. The instant her saliva touched my mouth I felt a bursting illumination race through me increasing as more and more of her salvia dripped from her hand into my mouth. I wanted to tear off my clothes and have her maul me. To devour my seed, blood, and flesh until there was nothing left. To bring me back to life and repeat it over and over and make her feasting on me never end.

I closed my eyes in utter ecstasy of my vision, but when I went to open them they would not open. I felt panic and fear flood me.

Then her sweet breath beneath my nose. Her husky erotic voice in my ear.

Yes, my husband. I will grant your request and many many more.

I felt pressure like a hand across my neck and left shoulder and thigh. Suddenly it was pressing down. Holding me in place.

Now, she cooed, give me your permission to enter you.

What are you talking about. Why can't I open my eyes. Why do you sound like you are seated next to me. My car is locked.

I felt something serpentine slither down the back of my pants. Then more saliva poured into my mouth. Shockwave after shockwave hammered down on me. I could feel she had mounted me and like earlier was attempting to pulverize my pelvis. Gushing moisture spread down around my cock and balls and onwards to between my ass. I felt orgasm after orgasm build and explode within me.

Give me your permission to enter you. Now!

Of course. Anything. Anything you desire of me is yours. Enter me. I beg of you to enter me.

The serpentine slithering thing rode down my backside, parted my ass cheeks far apart as it continued, then awash in the sopping wetness by my anus, penetrated my asshole worming its way deeper and deeper towards my core.

As she shattered my bones and serpent plunged over prostate and far beyond I died. Over and over again washed dissolved away in ocean after ocean of incomprehensible orgasm driven further and further into utter nothingness.

Then she was gone. 

Monday morning I was sitting at my desk. Another my assistant was droning on about the week's scheduled. I listened with only the required nods of my head at the necessary places. When she slid her hand down the front of her skirt and let out a loud moan I was suddenly paying attention.

Ms Gould, I said as loud as I dared so not to alarm the entire staff in the department. As though she had not heard me she took her left foot at swung her sensibly shoed foot to close the door that was behind her. We were now sealed off from the rest of the staff and all knew when I had my office door closed I was not to be disturbed. I heard the cheap door lock click but never saw her move to do it. Rather I watched in fascination as she went to increasing work on herself. Her arm now below the waist of her skirt and her elbow straining the dress fabric as her elbow was now angled out towards me. I looked up towards her face, on the way realized her rather large breasts had burst the upper buttons of her prim and professional top leaving her dark brown skin exposed as more and more of her cleavage spilled out. When I managed to look at her face, in part as she had just let out an even loader more urgent moan, I saw her eyes were completely rolled back in her head leaving nothing but the eerie sight of nothing but the whites of her eyes.

Ms Gould I shouted this time. A significant panic rising in me as her display continued. I could clearly hear her ramming herself with such vigor and force that her large breast rose up and down more and more violently. I could also see that as she drove upwards into herself that her once pointing outwards elbow was steadily replaced by more and more of her up arm disappearing inside her skirt.

I was horrified and felt an urgent need to make her stop when I happened yo look down at myself and noticed that not only was I fully erect, but a growing stain of wetness was becoming visible on my suit pants.

I jerked my head up when I heard a retching sound. She was gagging as she was forcefully attempting to shove her entire fist inside a mouth that was clearly too small. More and more saliva seeped out between her lips and her ramming straining hand.

Now that is a sight you don't see every day at the office aye hubby.

I recognized the husky throaty voice immediately. I looked past my knees into the semi gloom beneath my desk and there she was kneeing. I nearly managed to jump up out of my chair but she whipped her tail from around behind her to cinch it about my calves and the central section of the chair.

My lust, she cooed, why on earth would you want to dash off now.

I went to speak and found my jaw could go up and down but no words could come out.

You look horribly uncomfortable all confined inside those trousers my dish. Let me do something about that for you; hmmm.

She took her long black nails and poked them right through the crotch of my pants. Then with a slight spreading of her fingers raked out the fabric from my anus to my waist leaving her hands width wide opening in its place.

I could see my precum ooze down along the tip of my head.

Even from the gloom where she knelt I saw her liquid black eyes flare in excitement.

Oh, you brought a treat for me, she said, and I heard the smacking of her lips.

Then her black forked tongue darted forth the forks encircled my cock at the base and then like squeezing a tube of toothpaste went up to the ridge of my glans and applied substantial enough pressure to extract any remaining precum.

With a sweeping motion she scooped it up and drew it back to her and then vanished.

But then she materialized just off to one side of my assistant. Opposite the woman's arm which she had clearly worked a decent amount of her forearm up into herself. Her moans were non-stop as where her now shaken free breasts. Free of the gloom of my desk I saw she was wearing a full length double fur sided black coat with a hood that was currently not being worn. As she maneuvered about my assistant I was able to see she was dressed in nothing but that coat. I thought I heard her murmur enjoy the view, it will help me with your next contribution.

I had no time to ponder that as I watched the creature wrap a hand around both of my assistant's arms at the elbow close to her bicep. Somehow she had managed to slip her arm down my assistant's skirt without ripping it.

Then with unconscionable fury began hammering my assistant with my assistant's own hands. The moan of ecstatic pleasure became unbearable to hear on top of watching as the creature drove them deeper and deeper inside the woman. I could see the woman's throat and belly distend as she rammed them inside her further and faster until my assistance let loose an unholy endless howling moan, thick cream like fluids erupted from between my assistant's legs as a geyser of saliva exploded similarly from between her lips and her forearm. The fluids and howling seemed to go on forever until at last my assistant fell to the floor and lay in a heap at the creatures feet.

The creature turned to me freezing me with those bottomless black eyes. For a moment I thought I saw my assistant thrashing below the surface of her eyes distorting them into the woman's form. Then the image seemed to sink down into those inky wells, and I became very conscious that I was openly gawking at the creature. 

The creature snapped her fingers and my crumpled assistant wobbly got to her feet. The african american women's skin seemed to be shimmering or a glow. The woman's ample breast stood out of both shirt and bra free and proud. The creature reached over, never taking her eyes from mine and tore the bra off the woman's body and dropped it to the ground. The creature gave strong nod upwards with her head and my assistant rolled up the waist of her skirt until her underwear was nearly exposed and the lower globes of her well proportioned ass were in plain sight. The creature ripped away my assistant's underwear. Even I could see they were soaking wet with my assistant's creamy cum. After she gave them an approving sniff and quick little lick she placed them in my assistant's hand.

Feed it to him. Make certain her drinks every sacred drop of you down.

My assistant moved without hesitation. She came around the back of my desk and as she out sized me in height and near me in weight she easily slid me and my chair along the floor until she had me firmly pressed up in the corner of the wall. Her left arm shot forward and upward and she took hold of me beneath my chin as her fingers dug into the hinge of my jaw until I opened my mouth. I begged, pleaded, and tried to bring reason to either of them. I told the creature my assistant had a husband and two children. To this it replied. I'll take care of that. Other than that neither replied to my cries.

My assistant leaned down and forward towering over me. Her breasts rubbing hard against my chest which is when I saw my assistant's eyes were absolutely pure unearthly white. Her lips were in a broad smile as she put her panties against my lips and smothered my nose and squeezed and squeezed out first a stream then drop after drop of her creamy cum into my mouth. When no more came out I heard the creature say, Now seal his lips shut with a deep wet kiss. Immediately my assistants wide mouth covered over mine. I felt a thick wet tongue enter my mouth. A fair amount of saliva followed her tongue, and without warning I felt the lower part of my body begin to spasm.

The creature snapped out, press your knees down onto his legs and pin him to his chair. And under no circumstances allow him to cum. My assistant dropped her weight and strength down on my legs and her free hand clamped about the base of my cock stopping everything previously in motion in its tracks.

I felt like she held me like that for hours. Her mouth still enclosing mine as my body flailed helplessly away and my orgasms burst and died within me over and over again.

When I came too it was dark outside my office window. All other workers had gone home. My clothes were rumpled and disheveled and I was still crammed in the corner of my walls. The center of my crotch was still ripped apart, and odd to me, my cock was still completely hard and throbbing. All I wanted was to reach the safety of my car and leave the madness of this day behind me. With great caution and my sports coat covering my waist and exposed groin I made it to the parking lot and my car. Without looking I opened the door and a but leapt in to the inviting privacy it offered.

When I pulled the door closed I heard the locks engage before I ever touched them. I looked over to the passenger side. There sat my assistant, her legs splayed wide showing off her deep pink vagina lips, her top pulled wide and under to full display her breasts, and shining in the last of the car interior light before it winked out were her gleam white orbs staring at me.

In the dark I heard her say, Time then to get you home boss. You have a full night on your schedule.

*****

Author's Note to Readers:

I have been writing, burning, hiding, and deleting my works for decades. I caved to my fears removed this from here once before. On another site. It would not be such a rough draft if I did not have such an aversion to going back over what I have written, and or destroy my works in a fit of self doubt. Hence, like a butterfly I always just want to move on. 

This is in large part due to my inner critic, and when I go back over my work I hack and slash and devalue it until I lower it to junk. Then my works end up in one of the three categories listed in the first sentence of this writer's note. 

I recently received some encouragement from another writer. I would mention their name, but I am not sure they would want to be attached to this work in any fashion, so I say Thank You to the one that helped me not to allow my fears to squelch me. 

Sincerely,

Strange

aka succubuslover



Feast for Three



“I have a treat for you,” she told me first thing when we woke up. She directed me to only work a half-day and rush home. I rushed home at lunch to find a sex-kitten vision in a tight tank top and mini-skirt, along with a long wet kiss. My immediate fondling move was rebuked as she ushered me to our shower upstairs. She told me to strip, and to wash. Not waiting for the water to warm, I hopped in and soaped up a sponge. Shannon sat on the edge of the vanity, raised her skirt and gently stroked herself as I watched through the clear glass of the shower stall. My cock swelled as I lathered it. 

“Make sure you clean that ass big boy,” she said as she smiled and sucked a wet finger into her mouth. I turned, bent at the waist, and gave her one of her favorite shows. 

With soapy hands I washed my shaved balls, crack and hole, making sure to push a finger slowly in and out of my backdoor. “Oh you naughty boy, you better not make yourself cum yet.” 

I sank to me knees, determined to give her a show she’ll thoroughly enjoy. “Oh no you don’t, on your feet, and rinse off. I’ve got other plans,” she commanded.

As I rinsed and hopped out, Shannon shimmied out of her skirt and lifted her top off. She grabbed my rigid pole and led me to the bed. Turning me around, she reached in her drawer and pulled out a sleeping mask. Placing it over my eyes, she grabbed my cock again, and led me down the stairs. “We’re going to take this matter into the dining room,” she whispered in my ear.

She helped me to lie on top of the table, face up. I felt the cold slate along my ass and back, sending a shiver through me. I heard her placing things around me, encircling me as if I was the centerpiece. In my heightened auditory senses I thought a heard a second set of footsteps with us. “Is there some one else here?” I asked. We have had a couple of threesomes in the past so I was not too concerned if it were true. 

“Shhhh,” was the reply as a felt a warm, slippery finger press against my lips.

Shannon had dipped a finger in warm fudge and I eagerly sucked it in my mouth. I bobbed and licked at it like a mini-dick, cleaning it until she pulled it out. She then poured warm fudge across my neck, hairless chest, trailing down my belly, through my trimmed bush, then along my hard cock. She took a can of whip cream and traced over her fudge trail, adding delectable pasties on my nipples. She proceeded to run her tongue down the trail, sucking on my neck, swirling the tastes on my chest, nursing on my diamond-hard nipples, and smearing her mixture on my belly with her lips. As she inched down my body, her own was slowly sliding into a 69 position with mine. I blindly returned the oral favors, albeit not artificially flavored, with kisses, and licks. Even with Shannon’s body hovering over mine, I felt the presence of another lurking above both of us, but I didn’t care I just desired more of Shannon’s touch.

She reached my cock with her hand; gripping it, she worked the warm fudge and cool whip cream into a delectable lubricant with steady strokes along its shaft. Her mouth stayed on my stomach, focusing her tongue on the pool of sweets in my belly button, lapping at it like a kitten lapping milk. I knew her pussy was just out of my mouth’s reach, parted and glistening in its own moisture, but achingly I could not see it as the blindfold kept me in the dark. I felt her thighs with my hands, following up until my fingers found her pussy. She removed her mouth from my belly, shifted her weight, and arched her back. Just as I pictured, she was wet, but not with the usual consistency of her girl quim. Feeling a warm drizzle crossing my fingers, she must be pouring some of the fudge down her backside across her pussy. I needed to taste her bad, and tried to move her further down so I could suck on her puss. She recoiled against my hands on her hips and stayed put, and returned to cleaning my body. I busied myself working the sticky confection into her already slippery pussy. I slowly smeared the goo in circular motions, covering both her outer and inner lips. My hungry grew as I dipped my other hand’s fingers into the mess, and gently pulled up along her labia to frame her clit. Shannon liked what she felt because her stroking on my rigid cock became firmer as her mouth now started to work on my pubic mound. I inched a gooey finger into her pussy; it was noticeably hotter than the slop I was working with on her exterior. Shannon’s hips began to flex, and she encouraged me with her sweet siren song of moans.

Shannon told me she had arranged various foods on our table, so I blindly reached for anything, planning on using whatever it was. My hand came into a large bowl of chunked ice. As I reached for a cube I felt various poles: long and hard. By the smell of the one I picked I could tell it was a peeled and frozen banana. I knew I could immediately plunge it in her. Holding it, I noticed she had picked a rather large one; I brought it up to her sticky pussy. A gasp escaped her mouth as I clumsily rubbed the cold fruit across her hot puss. Using my fingers to find her spots, I guided the ice-hard banana to run its length along her outer lips. Shannon’s hips rolled. I found her clit, extended its hood, and slowly dragged the cold member across it. “AHHHH, AHHH,” she had to remove her mouth from me in the frigid shock.

Shannon’s hand was pumping my cock hard. As she hit its base she would extend her fingers around my balls, pulling up on their sac as she brought her hand back to the head. Resting her arms on my hips, she squeezed my balls with one hand, and separated them, all the while continuing her firm strokes with her other hand. After a few strokes, she released her grip, and her weight shifted; she was reaching for something herself. I grunted as I got a shock from a cold phalanx being shoved in my ass. About the diameter of a big finger, it felt like she forced in about 4” of the icicle into me: I loved every inch of it, and felt its coldness creep into my shaft through my prostate. “MMMMM,” I heard as I lifted my legs high and wide.

Shannon’s hips bucked as I ran fingers inside her inner lips, scooping up the mixture of girl juice and confection. Tasting my find, I discovered she had poured caramel onto herself. My state of lustful bliss increased ten-fold and I could no longer play along in the blindfold game. I ripped off the mask, grabbed her ass cheeks, and forcefully dropped her hips to my face. Sucking with all my might, I engulfed her pussy with my mouth, drinking in her intoxicating elixir. “Fuck yeah, eat that pussy Stud Bull! Lick up that mess!” 

I arched my neck back to come face-to-face with Vicki, the gorgeous divorcee who had just moved in next door a couple of months ago. She was naked and holding a video camera with one hand; she had her other hand working her own pussy. My mind raced: I had never touched her before, but wondered how long she and my wife had already been sucking each other. Quickly I caught myself and went back to my afternoon delight.

Shannon released my cock to hold herself up with her hands on the table and sat up a bit to grind her sloppy pussy on my face. She had poured the caramel at the top of her ass crack, which left a trail down her cleft, across her rosebud, then into the folds of her pussy. The banana still in hand, I positioned it to rub and almost penetrate her puckered rosebud. Her heat was rapidly defrosting the fruit, and the outer portions of it had begun to melt off, creating a potassium-enriched mush to mash against my nose. With out removing my face from her pussy, I fumbled around with a hand, seeking for the can of whip cream. Vicki’s intuition told her what I was searching for and she sprayed a large dose just out of my tongue’s reach along Shannon’s crack, which instantly began to melt down to her pussy and my hungry mouth. Harmonizing “OOOO’s” echoed in the room as the girls voiced their approval.

I craned my neck and began to run my flatten tongue across her ass then back down across her enflamed pussy. Smearing the cream and sauces across those glorious cheeks, and my face; Shannon began to grunt with approval. I pushed the tip of my tongue at the bottom of her rosebud’s ridge ring, expanding it forcefully, yet teasingly just staying out of any form of insertion. Shannon pushed her ass back, enticing me to take the plunge, I went back to her pussy, causing her to elevate her hips again. She took my cock head into her mouth and raked her teeth across its head, voicing her frustration. I gave her a swift swat on the ass, and her bites became licks and sucks. Vicki added a couple of swats of her own, “Yeah spank that ass stud-bull, make her suck that big dick,” she cheered. 

Vicki’s dirty talk got me and I began inserting my tongue, alternating attention to each hole, as rapidly and deeply as I could. Shannon brought back her furious stroking pace. Shannon wrapped her lips around my cock head, her throat moaning in deep groans, beckoning my cum to coat her mouth.

I repositioned the half frozen banana and inserted it into her pussy. Grabbing the other half between my lips, I began to bob my head, fucking her with it. “Get that tongue on my clit!” she shrilly commanded. 

I encircled her nub with my mouth, and sucked it in. Leaving the banana inserted in her pussy, I began to flick her clit along its length. Shannon’s mouth suddenly engulfed my cock again, taking its length all the way in, sucking whatever pre-cum inside it down her throat. 

“Oh you nasty whore! Suck that donkey-dick! Suck the stud’s cum out!” Vicki exclaimed with glee. Shannon grabbed the cold phalanx in my ass and started to jiggle it, angling it to press on my prostate. I had to release my mouth to gasp this time. Vicki took this as her cue to redirect the camera angle to Shannon’s oral skills. Returning my tongue to its desired place, I reached into the bowl of ice and grabbed a piece.

Holding it, I began to melt off the sharp edges, allowing the cold drippings to fall against her rosebud. Shannon liked that as she moaned onto my cock as she face fucked its length. I felt my balls clench, Shannon was hitting my G-spot, and I felt like peeing, but I knew my eruption would be solely sex juice, and it was going to be one of the biggest loads I ever released. I pressed the ice cube against her bud, and with a quick push, inserted it to a finger’s depth. 

Shannon released me, let out a scream, and her hips began to violently spasm. I mashed my tongue against her clit as she ground down on it, her orgasm shaking her to her icy core. I watched as her ass clenched; melting ice water began to stream out of her sphincter as it convulsed. Her pussy popped the banana out, leaving a syrupy splash across my cheek and ear as it found the table. This vision of ecstasy was all I could take, and without warning I erupted. Our combined orgasmic screams bounced off the dining room walls. Shannon hurriedly covered my cock head with her lips, rubbing them in a circular motion as my continuous load streamed out. Her hand was stroking me hard. Vicki was practically yelling: “Yeah, FUCK YEAH, THAT’S INCREDIBLE, EAT THAT SHIT, EAT HIS CUM!” 

Shannon opened her mouth and tongued my cock’s head as the last of my eruption coated her mouth, while one hand was twisting and pumping the shaft, and the other held the cold anal probe against my clenching prostate. “FUCK, OH FUCK!” I yelled as the intense pleasurable pain of her tonguing felt like my cock would burst. 

I muffled my cries by forcing my mouth hard onto her still convulsing pussy lips; driving my tongue in as far is it would go, tasting caramel banana. I placed two fingers along her clit, pushing against it, but not on it, and my other hand found an ice-cold cucumber from the bowl.

Fucking her ass with the cucumber, I sucked the juices out of her flowing pussy. She again had to release my cock to focus on her own sexual lusts. With quick and shallow thrusts, I fucked her ass with abandon, and another orgasm overtook her. As she started I changed the style of the fucking: from in and out, to rotating the cuke, her rosebud scrapping against the little ridges and bumps. “Yes, Yes, Don’t stop,” her ass cheeks and thighs were shaking, “feels so good, IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD! AH, AH, OOOOHHHHH! OOOHHHH!” 

She collapsed on top of me, pulling away from my mouth. Leaving the cuke inserted, she used her fingers to press down on her outer pussy lips as I watched her inner lips and hole pulsate with aftershocks.

I looked away to make eye contact with Vicki, she gave me a very devilish wink as she had placed the camera on a tripod. Before I could say anything she started licking my balls, cleaning off the mixture of fudge and cream, both whip and cock. She grabbed whatever was still stuck in my ass and began to fuck me. Grabbing my still rock hard cock, she angled it straight up as Shannon mounted me reverse-cowgirl style. Vicki sucked a ball into her mouth as Shannon slowly impaled herself with my pole. Extending my arms I sat myself up on my hands, Shannon leaned back on me. She turned her head and I inserted my tongue in her mouth, sharing all the tastes of our feast. She rocked slowly as Vicki began to lick up my balls, past the base of my cock, to Shannon’s clit, and then back down again. I saw a bowl of strawberries and grabbed as many as I could. I mashed them on Shannon’s bald mound; the juice and berry bits running down her engorged lips past my balls to the thing in my ass. Vicki began sucking in the offering. Shannon broke our kiss, grabbed the can of whip cream and sprayed a huge portion all over the pussy/cock union, and to our delight, plastering Vicki’s face. The two of us giggled at the site, but Vicki wantonly ate up everything our sexual bounty had to offer.

As Vicki’s mouth was eagerly licking and sucking our fuck connection, I saw a small bowl of what appeared to be vanilla pudding. Scooping up a handful, I squeezed Shannon’s breast with the goop, pinching her nipple. Shannon placed her hand under mine, lifted her breast to her mouth and sucked in her areola. Vicki wandered her mouth up Shannon’s body, grabbed more strawberries, and crushed them on Shannon’s other breast. She placed her mouth over the nipple and began nursing. Shannon began bucking, bending my cock as she slid her ass cheeks back and forth over my hips. I felt a hand rubbing Shannon’s clit, not knowing which girl’s it was. The anal probe I had in me slipped out, taking my breath away, and causing me to fall back. With all my power I had to control my PC muscle spasm to cease before I lost my load. 

I began kicking my feet trying to control my body’s urge to cum. “He’s cumming again! Let it go baby! Let’s us eat it!” Shannon shrieked as she climbed off and pushed Vicki’s face down to my crotch. 

She grabbed hold of my shaft and with only one downward stroke I sent my first burst to land on my upper chest. The girls squealed and grabbed my cock to milk it for all its worth. They wrestled their tongues against each other’s right at my hole as my second, third, and fourth shots rocketed out. Their hungry mouths taking in every drop. Vicki took over and engulfed my cock, sucking down the next three shots my cock offered. Shannon moved up to lick my chest, mixing my first shot of jizz with the remains of chocolate, strawberries, whip cream. She brought the sweet offering to my mouth with hers. We shared it deeply, wrestling our tongues, sucking and plunging.

Shannon broke our kiss with a devilish smile, her face a sloppy mess and beautiful. She grabbed a frozen cucumber from the bowl as she moved behind Vicki who was bending over the table as she continued her feast on my cock, which was slowly losing it hardness, obviously spent for a while. Never breaking our eye stare, she inserted the cold cuke into Vicki’s pussy: “OOOO, fuck me girlfriend, cool down my hot pussy, fuck me good.” 

As I sat up to watch the show, I saw that it was a carrot that had been in my ass when Vicki moved to look back. Shannon lowered her face behind Vicki’s ass, her tongue already extended. 

“Yeah, lick my hole you nasty bitch, show the stud how you lick me clean. Make me cum Shan, make me cum all over that dirty face,” Vicki was looking back to watch Shannon’s head bob up and down. 

“Uh huh, lick my ass, like that, uh huh, fuck me, fuck me, mmmmm, mmmmmm.” Vicki’s hips lowered as she spread her legs, giving Shannon as much access as possible. She reached back with her hands to spread her ass cheeks as she laid her tits on the table to lower her mouth on to my cock once again, muffling her moans. Shannon increased the speed of her thrusting, and had forced a good 2 inches of tongue up Vicki’s ass, thrashing her head in circles. Vicki’s moans soon became heavy grunts as her orgasm approached; her mouth acting like a suction vacuum on my cock, trying desperately to harden it once again. With an audible pop, she released my cock, arched her back, and threw her head back. 

“YEAH SHAN, YEAH. EAT MY ASS! UUUUHHHNNNN!” Her whole body was shuddering. “FUCK YEAH, UUUUUHHHNNNNN, FUCK YEAH! UH-HUH! UH-HUH! UUUUUUHHHHNNNNNNNN!” 

Vicki grabbed a breast, pulling it away from her chest, using her nipple as a handle. From my angle, Shannon’s head was buried in Vicki’s rear; eyes closed, tongue plunged deep in Vicki’s rosebud, her whole head thrashing around. 

“AHH! Yeeeeessssssssss! Baby you do that so good. You always know how to make me cum.” Shannon’s insatiability left me in a stupor of lust and giddiness, while Vicki’s desire left me craving for more.

Shannon ran her tongue up Vicki’s back as she stood, pulling her up until they were both standing upright. Vicki turned into her, engaging in a deep tongue kiss, rubbing tits together, Vicki’s hands grabbing Shannon’s ass and Shannon kept the cuke in Vicki while her other hand tangled in Vicki’s hair. I eased off the table, grabbed some strawberries and the can of whip cream. Wedging myself in between the girls I mashed the berries on to Vicki’s steaming pussy, and sprayed what remained of the cream on top of that. Grabbing the cuke from Shannon I buried my face into her puss. I licked, sucked and cleaned what ever bit of sex flesh I could wrap my lips around while maintaining a steady twisting, in and out motion with the cuke. She grabbed my hair and forced my head into her even harder. Her knees began to buckle as the ecstatic sensations began to overcome her. Shannon helped her fall back on to one of the chairs, and began to nurse on Vicki’s tits. I enclosed her clit within my lips, sucked it in as far as it could extend, and rapidly flicked it with a feather touch. 

“AHHHH SHIT! YOU FUCKING WHORES, MAKE ME CUM AGAIN! MAKE ME CUM AGAIN!” Vicki was screaming. She lifted a leg to rest it on the table top, legs almost spread in to splits, giving me full access to her sex. I continued my pace on her clit. Vicki had pulled Shannon back up to tongue wrestle her, Shannon forcefully kneading Vicki’s tits.

I inserted two twisted fingers into her pussy and angled them at her G-spot. “UH-HUH, UH-HUH, OOOHHHHH!” Her voice quivering, “OOOHHHHHH! OOOHHHHH YEAH!” 

I could taste her pussy juice over the tastes of the berries and cream. I lapped at it up, and around her pussy hole, as fast and furious as I could. Her juices were like Viagra as I felt my cock respond, and start to swell. Using a foot against my shoulder, Vicki pushed me away from her too sensitive pussy buttons; I slowly pulled the cuke out as well. The girls kept their lip-lock as I stood. 

I caught of glimpse of myself in a wall mirror and had to chuckle. I was a mess from my knees to the top of my head. The girls were not any cleaner. I joined them in a 3-way kiss as we slowly caught our breath. The girls felt my half hard cock against their skin, looked into each others eyes, smiled and said: “Let’s take a shower.”



Feast of Life



Seobanien watched the girl as she strung wispy threads of mock spider web across a flimsy wooden coffin. She had been working for hours decorating the small house and bit by bit transforming it into the very ideal of suburban festivity. Stark white plastic ghosts frolicked in the yard alongside cardboard gravestones. A scarecrow sat limply on the top of a tree stump, his painted on face pleasant and happy. Jack-o-lanterns lined the front steps and grinned their idiot smiles of welcome. 

It had not been those false monuments to a dead religion that had brought Seobanien to the edge of the wood. He had no interest in the trivial observances that humans indulged in during this era of 'modern' thinking. No, his attention was riveted on the girl. It had been her soft singing that had captured him, the sibilant melody of her young voice, so full of life that had drawn him from his sanctuary. Seobanien did not know how old she was; he had lost all sense of human age millennia ago. From the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast through the thin costume she wore he guessed that she was well past adolescence.

He stared at her hands as she wound another string of the artificial web around the coffin. Her fingers were long and thin, tapering perfectly into long nails that were painted black. The green dress she wore clung to her body, accenting every supple contour like a lover's embrace. Her hair was plaited in intricate braids that looped around her face and accented the graceful lines of her features. A sparkling green powder glittered on her eyelids, matching her dress, her eyes. Her delicate feet had been bound into black slippers with thin cords of satin that crisscrossed up her calves. A pair of wispy wings floated on her back and though Seobanien knew they were false the image she created charmed him in a way he barely remembered.

Voices, high and piercing, interrupted his train of thought and Seobanien looked on in consternation as a group of fantastically dressed children scampered up the street. There were princesses, pirates, gremlins and each one held a bag or bucket of some sort that displayed decorations similar to those that the girl had put up so diligently. They clambered around her with a singsong chant, giggling and jostling each other. To Seobanien's surprise, instead of sending them away, she gave them handfuls of small brightly colored packages that were piled high in a glass basin. He did not completely understand the function of the custom and before he could deduce its meaning the children were gone, running back up the street with squeals of laughter. 

As the hour grew late, he watched the scene repeated again and again. As the moon neared its zenith the groups of children trickled off into pairs then they stopped coming altogether. Seoban could feel the girl's fatigue as she took the nearly empty basin into her small house then returned to the steps. With a tired sigh she sat and turned her green eyes up to the moon with a wistful expression.

Seobanien knew the time was nearing when he would be able to leave his hiding place and approach her. It was Sow-en night, a night when the barriers between the worlds grew thin. It was during this time that all the peoples could mingle together, good and evil. He slipped down through the branches of the tree where he had been waiting. His slender form moved among the branches with a gracefulness that no human could match, making no sound as he dropped to the ground in a crouch.

The girl did not move as he made his way to where she sat; in fact she had not yet realized that she was not alone. The shadows were Seobanien's friends and he slipped between them as if he were one of their own, letting their soft darkness cloak his body until he was nearly upon her. When he finally stepped into the harsh yellow light pouring from the windows of the little cottage the girl's eyes widened in fear. Seobanien had not been expecting fear from her and it pained him to see it in her gentle features.

"Do not fear me. I have come to show you the wonders of my realm," he whispered to her in his most soothing voice, drawing on his own elemental influence to ease the troubled thoughts from her mind. The frown marring her face smoothed, melded into a tentative smile that lit her features with a glow that shone from within. Seobanien basked in that glow, drinking in the essence of her like a cool wine. It was sweet, subtle, and wholly pleasing. 

He held a hand out, willing her to take it, using the force of his presence to urge her into trust. When she did, her touch sent a wash of her life force through him, making his head spin as if he had indeed drank wine. Seobanien gently tugged her to her feet and pulled her with him toward the wood. He wanted her to see his domain this night. A world she would likely never have known existed otherwise. She did not protest but followed him willingly.

They moved quickly into the dim realm of the trees where the moon's salient face could not follow. Seobanien gloried in her innocence, the wide-eyed virtue of her clean presence. He had not felt a soul such as hers for a very long time and it nearly overwhelmed him. She was a spring breath, filling him with that sense of newness that could only be found in the purity of youth. 

Seobanien lead her deeper into the forest, past the familiar trees that lived in the mortal world. They were the same trees that grew in his realm but here there was no sign of time's passage. As they traveled further into the interior of the ancient wood, there was a subtle change and the verdant leaves lost the lackluster haze that surrounded the world of men. Here in the outer ring of his haven life had a different soul. Here the soul of the fey touched everything, made itself palpable to the senses. 

He heard her gasp in awe and knew she could sense some small part of what surrounded her. Seobanien clasped her hand tighter when he noticed a group of curious sprites gathered around a ring of bright red toadstools further up the path they followed. He wondered if she would even see them as they passed their tittering voices unmistakable to his own ears. 

To his disappointment, she did not. It saddened Seobanien, reminded him of his banishment from the mortal world now many centuries gone. There had been a time when humans could recognize even the smallest fey, the very least of his brethren, but that had been before the cataclysm had come, before one world had been sundered into many and all the peoples had scattered. 

As they neared his refuge, his own small palace at the heart of the forest realm, Seobanien felt his pulse quicken in anticipation. The girl had come quietly with him to this point, willing and docile. It boded well for his purposes that she was compliant, yielding to his subtle glamours. She sparked a hunger in him that had long lain dormant. So long that Seobanien had all but forgotten its existence. 

He led her, wide-eyed and breathless, through the arching entrance of his home. He could feel the unsteady beat of her heart, sense her overwhelmed thoughts, as she trailed behind him through the countless rooms of living stone. She gaped openly at the beautiful tapestries, the galleries of delicate statues, the things he looked upon as constant reminder of his isolation. His eyes passed over these wonders with hardly a pause. She was the most beautiful object within the walls of his prison this night. She was life itself, newness made flesh.

On he took her through the maze of hallways and alcoves until they were at the door to his private chambers, his own sanctum. With a slight twitch of his hand, the intricately carved doors swung out and he motioned for her to enter. He could not lead her here; she must come of her own will. For an agonizing instant, he thought she would reject his invitation but she only hesitated for a breath before stepping over the threshold. 

She was his now, there would be no turning back for her from this point until he had drunk his fill of her cleanness, her essence. Seobanien gathered her slight form into his arms, the feel of her soft flesh alive against his own, and the utter purity of her singing through his veins. The girl sighed, a light sound, almost a whisper of breath as his mouth captured hers. 

Her lips were rose pink and sweet with the wine of mortality. Seobanien could feel his own body responding, gathering his spirit so that he might partake of hers. His hands clutched at her, wanting, needing the feel of her skin without the barrier of her clothes to hamper their need. She did not protest as he plucked at the clasps holding her silky dress in place, did not resist as he stripped away the flimsy material from her warm flesh.

Seobanien lifted away the false wings tied to her back, letting them fall unheeded to the cold marble floor of his chambers. His fingers plucked at the sheer underclothes that hid her away from him, discarding them impatiently in his haste to have her completely exposed, open before him. Her eyes were closed, shut tight, though the skin of her face glowed with the barest flush and her lips were parted just slightly. Seobanien's eyes were ravenous for wanting of her, gliding over her bare flesh with a greedy haste. He had not bothered with the thin little slippers on her feet he was so overtaken with the need to have her.

It only took a moment for him to bear himself to her, though she could not see him and he could wait no longer, could not withhold his hunger. Seobanien let his hands gather her pliant body to his own, let them wander as they would across her supple skin, eliciting wordless cries from her slim throat. He urged her back against a thick tapestry, careful not to let her touch the chill stone wall lest it break his spell. She gasped, but did not protest as he lifted her, gathering her legs in his arms and opening her completely to him. Seobanien pressed against her, capturing her mouth in his one last time as he thrust, tearing the very last of her barriers.

She cried out against his lips, the sound of her agony filling his ears with a music he had not heard in to long a time. His glamour gone, the enchantment he had woven around her from the beginning vanished in the simple brutality with which he took her. Seobanien gloried in her pain, in the screaming echoes of her mind as she saw his true form at last. He clamped his sharp teeth to the pulsing vein in her slender neck, rending the tender flesh, swirling the salty tang of her lifeblood over his tongue.

He forced his distorted flesh into her with no regard for the damage it caused, the sharp scent of her fear and horror driving him into ecstasy. She whimpered softly, the sound a hum of pleasure against his tongue as he drew her essence into himself. The heady scent of her death made his head spin, his body tremble as her soul slowly slipped away from the mortal bonds that had held it for so short a time. He convulsed violently as her heart gave its final gasp and went still. Seobanien shuddered against the limp husk that had been the girl; let the last vestige of her wash over him in glorious waves. 

When at last he could focus his mind again Seobanien let the desiccated body fall to the floor with a smile, his long needlelike teeth shining in the soft candle light. He ignored the dry and withered shell that had fed him so richly this Sow-en Night and dressed in his finest tunic, leaving his apartments without a backward glance. He had not had such a rich meal in so long he had nearly forgotten the surge of power that accompanied such a feast. Seobanien strode through the dim halls of his palace, his glassy black eyes glittering and his leathery wings twitching in satisfaction. 



Feast of the 4th



Ah yes, the fireworks were spectacular, but the exhilaration of them ignited an inferno deep within my soul and awakened a hunger that has been dormant for far too long. As the celebrations abated, I turned my eyes, heart and mind towards prey and satiating this hunger burning so intensely in the pit of my stomach. When I saw her, I knew my fast had come to a close and the time to satisfy my yearning was at hand.

She had been walking to her car, in a somewhat shadowed part of the street when I noticed her. Silently, I stalk her, waiting patiently in the inky black heart of the shadows. Focusing my mind elsewhere for a brief moment, I allow her to pass by without allowing my carnal intent to send out psychic vibrations that would have no doubt alerted her to my presence. There is an odd link between prey and predator; hunting through the centuries has taught me this and I know that if I wish to feed on someone I cannot anticipate it or be too intent upon it as I strike; lest they feel me and flee before I reach them.

She glances over her shoulder as I approach, eyes widening, partially in fear and even more so from the erotic sensations paralyzing her lithe body. I use the force of sensuality, eroticism and that light, fuzzy sort of burn low in a woman's belly to my advantage, twisting it with my mind to create a paralytic dulling of the senses. Through psychic "tweaking," I manipulate it to my will and overpower the fight or flight instinct, leaving my victim with no choice but to await her fate—hell, even to yearn for it.

Hunger and a yearning for excitement, drives me to throw caution to the wind. I walk quickly to capture her from behind, just as she reaches the cars and where the embrace of the night is darkest, deep in the shadows of covered parking. 

Hey, I am hungry, what can I say? Sometimes there is simply nothing else to do, but satisfy the "itch" that torments us.

I turn the force of mind onto her pathetic little brain, ruthlessly battering down any resistance she may have offered and in less than an instant, knew she was mine. 

Her eyes lock on mine and her body sags in limp submission. She melts back against her car, grinding her hips against my groin. 

Though hunger is my driving force, other desires instantly spring to life and I feel the throb of it pulsating through my core. I lean in to kiss her and she responds with incredible passion. Thrusting her hips against me, she leans back as if offering her breasts to me. She arches over backwards and throws back the silky mane of hair that originally captured my attention. Exposed like a beacon crying out to me, her soft and delicate throat glimmers with a milky white sheen to it in the flickering shadows, the sweat of a July night and from her body's mounting desire, glistening and further intensifying my hunger. 

My hand reaches out and I take her by the chin, tilting her head back further and without further ado, I sink my teeth into her throat. There is a soft tearing and gurgling sound; a glorious symphony of taste, sound and scent that always electrifies me to the core of my soul—but makes her eyes widen a bit, realization mixing with her own euphoric bliss.

Blood gushes out of her puncture wounds and cascades down my chin, dripping onto her heaving breasts and tricking down through her cleavage to form a rivulet flowing over her tummy.

She sags lower and her body falls totally limp. I lower her gently to the ground, never releasing my mouth from her throat. She emits a moan that is half pain and half orgasm.

Her body convulses and twitches; the shock of the loss of body fluid mixing with violent throes of a deeply intense orgasm. Her eyes flutter open and she stares at me. To me, this is sort of a sacred and sensual communion, our souls intertwining in harmonious sanctity; thoughts intermingling and an intense sort of bliss that is far too complex to convey to one that has never experienced it.

I love this. There is a purity to the act; a union of body, mind and soul. The taking of life in such a way is beyond description, it also quite often amuses me in a humorous way. It nearly always surprises me, even after countless centuries of taking lives to satisfy my appetites.

Here I am, draining every ounce of her life's blood and her reaction is to reach down and grab the pulsating shaft straining against my clothing. She strokes it through my jeans, hands grabbing at me with greed and desire. She is dying and all she can think about is a way, any way at all, to pull me into her and complete our union in the flesh, as well as the soul.

This is one of the parts of the "hunt" that thrill me to this very day, even after scores of centuries of feeding on these lowly humans. It really is fascinating, if you stop to think about it. Their minds are so tightly wrapped around their ever present sexuality that even in death, they cling to the joy and ecstasy of their sensual desires.

I wish I had the time, or even the inclination, to take this girl off somewhere and let our little dance last awhile longer, to please myself and draw out our little foray awhile longer.

The truth is, I just don't care to. She is a tasty treat to be sure. Her blood is good and pure, she is of a fine vintage, but I am simply not drawn to her. Even with the pleasure of her hand stroking me as she loses consciousness and the soft tickle of her blood trickling down my mouth and chin. She is a fine feast, but lacks something that I need in order to ignite the furnace in my soul. 

As the light of life fades slowly from her eyes, I leave her there on the street. But, before I leave her, I lean over her slender form and kiss her on the forehead and whisper softly to her.

"Thank you little one, for the meal and the grope."

A weak smile twitches from the corner of her mouth, even as the light of life dims from her eyes. I seldom stay and watch my quarry pass from this life. I give them time to gather their thoughts, free from the grasp and control of my mind as they slip into the next phase of their existence.

I turn my mind to the coming night's activities and walk slowly away.

©2009 J.L. Day



Feast Of The Gods



This story is actually a continuation of a story I posted earlier called "Feast Of The Rose Garlands". If you have not read the previous story, this one contains enough of the backstory for it to stand alone. I apologize to all the readers who emailed me wanting more, for my taking so long to crank this one out. The story took on a life of it's own and the willful characters once again went their own direction. Thanks to everyone for reading and to K. for everything! Love, Miss Scarlett

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A portrait, like friendship, can make an absent man present and a dead man seem alive.

                  -Leon Battista Alberti


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"Unhand my wife, you cad!" Alaric Dusek exclaimed, brandishing a deadly looking katzbalger sword, which was ornamented with a gold coat of arms of his own ornate design. The cad in question, who embraced Master Dusek's comely wife, sneered at the painter. Hannelore Dusek had been frozen with fear when her husband threw open the drapes and found her being caressed in the bedroom by the treacherous young man dressed only in green velvet breeches.

"Or what, Sir? Would you risk tainting the emperor's precious gift to you with the blood of a varlet artist?" the man retorted, smiling in the dimness with only a flash of white teeth. Hanne was torn between the heat of her lover's touch and the illicit thrill of being caught by her husband. The man in green had no shame, he kneaded Hannelore's firm breasts with both hands, ignoring the angry husband.

"I certainly will run you right through to the heart," Alaric said, it was less passionate than his previous statement.

"Don't stab him, darling, he's so pretty," Hannelore said emphatically, then she was silenced by the blonde man's brief kiss on her lips.

"Never fear, I doubt he knows how to use it anyway," mocked the lover.

"Oh, he knows well how to use it," Hanne said, giggling.

"Prepare to die," Alaric sighed, with an air of boredom.

"Very well, might I make love to your wife first? If it's to be my last night alive, I should like to make it memorable," said the impish youth in emerald finery.

"I suppose, I wouldn't want to deprive a man his dying wish."

Laughing, Alaric sheathed the sword and set it on a nearby cupboard. How often the three of them played these childish games. Hannelore ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him hard on the lips. Castiel Valten, who played the part of the forbidden tryst, stepped out of the shadows to clasp Alaric affectionately on the back.

"Welcome, dear master," Castiel said, kissing the taller man's mouth and then hugging him.

"We weren't expecting you until next week, I missed you so much," Hanne said.

"We rode early from Venice. I could not stand to be away from either of you any longer."

"You're just in time to wash up and join the feast planned for this evening, it promises to be quite the bacchanal." Castiel remarked, as Alaric took his hand, kissing the palm.

"I have nothing to wear," was Alaric's reply.

"That, my friend, is not a problem, I had an extra costume prepared just in case," Castiel chimed merrily. Hannelore clapped her hands in good cheer, it was wonderful for the three of them to be together again. 

It had been three months since Castiel and Hannelore left Alaric in Venice and rode to Castiel's country estate outside Florence. The trio spent only one torrid night together in Alaric's temporary apartment in Venice before they parted ways. Alaric had many commissioned works to paint or engrave and various social engagements to attend, which was pressure enough without having to support his wife as well.  Hanne would have stayed home in Nurnberg while her husband travelled as she sometimes did, but Castiel invited her to be his guest for the duration of her husband's trip.

 The invitation pleased Alaric and alleviated the guilt he always felt for having to leave his beloved behind for financial reasons. Castiel was heir to a fortune, as illness had taken his parents two years before. To some degree Castiel was a man of leisure, only painting for his own amusement, unlike Alaric, who had almost forgotten the pleasure his art once brought him. 

Alaric let Hanne stay with Lord Valten, knowing he would honor her with lavish gifts and undivided attention, things that Alaric, despite the best intentions, couldn't always provide. He worried not over betrayal by either one of them. No matter what Castiel and Hanne were doing whilst he was away, when Alaric returned, he was embraced by both as if he had come back from the dead. 

"Good heavens, I suppose I cannot avoid the merriment lest I go back from whence I came," Alaric said, wearily.

"No, don't leave. We would both die if you went so soon," Castiel laughed.

Hannelore comforted Alaric with a kiss on his long, handsome neck, which was tanned from riding, then said, "Come along, you can wash up if you like and tell me all about Venice."





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Hannelore and Alaric made their way down the old stone staircase and through the long reception area where half a dozen servants were laying out the food and decoration for the festivities to come.

The train of Hanne's pale, blue silk gown, flowed behind her like a mist and Alaric noticed several young houseboys nearly drop the crockery they were arranging so carefully when she walked by. Alaric had never seen the dress before, it surely was a gift from Castiel, as it was trimmed in expensive gold brocade and cut so low it barely covered her nipples.

His Hannelore was an exquisite vision and after four years of marriage, she still evoked his most fervent desire. Alaric observed with pride, how free she looked in the Tuscan countryside, with her hair uncovered and falling into loose ringlets. Bleached by the sun, her tresses, once light red, had turned strawberry blonde. Her hair would be the envy of the women of Florence, but in Germany, like all the other married women, Hannelore never left the house without her hair completely covered with some sort of headdress or veil. 

 Following Hanne to the massive private gardens, he fought the urge to back her into one of the large helm oaks and have her right there. He knew she would not protest, for she enjoyed nothing more than being ravished, but he wanted to wash his journey away first.

Hanne led him behind a short stone wall, which obscured a small oblong bathing pool, carved out of stone and covered by a bower of fragrant, floral vines. Water flowed into the pool from a nearby stream, aided by a series of interesting aqueducts. Alaric had not witnessed the ancient Roman marvel firsthand, but it was related to him by Castiel when they met in Florence some years before. It was even more amazing than he could've imagined. 

Alaric stripped off his dusty clothes and boots and waded into the cool, waist deep water. He sat on one of the steps, with the water lapping calmly at his chest and watched Hannelore remove her dress, the late afternoon sunshine resplendent in her hair.

"You're like a mermaid," Alaric marveled.

Hannelore slinked, nearly as fluid as the water, into the pool and moved toward him.

"Am I? You should take care not to be abducted, my lord."

"Would you take me back to the sea to live then? I can't swim, you know," he laughed, as Hannelore stopped right in front of him.

"I would teach you," she replied and her expression was pure mischief. She handed him a pitcher, which, along with some cloths and glass bottles, had been placed on the edge of the bath earlier. Alaric poured a pitcher full of clean water over his head and felt invigorated. He wiped tiny droplets from his eyes with the cloth she had given him and smiled at her, water still dripping from his small, scruffy beard.

Hanne took a glass apothecary bottle from the side, poured a clear liquid into her palm and replaced the bottle. She massaged the oil into Alaric's tangled, brownish gold hair, lathering it well and prying apart the worst of it.

"That smells delightful, what is it?" Alaric asked.

"Sandalwood oil and olive soap," she replied, sitting behind him so he could lie back and rest his head on her thigh. She rubbed his knotted shoulders, his back and arms while they talked quietly.

"Another experiment?" he asked, fascinated. Hannelore always busied herself with soapmaking and the quest for new remedies. Her knowledge of plants rivaled any apothecary or doctor he knew.

"I've been trading recipies with the monks on the other side of the lake," she explained. He grinned at her, she was just like her father, always inventing, trying to make their lives more comfortable.

"You were going to tell me about Venice," she said.

"Master Bellini told an audience of Venetian painters that I was the most brilliant painter in Europe. I'm told only half of them jeered him," Alaric said sadly, "I have found much celebrity among the nobles there, but few friends among the painters." 

"My love, they are imbeciles," Hannelore reassured. Alaric kissed her thigh for the kindness.

"They only mock out of jealousy, this I know. They say I do not know my colors or that my work is too modern, it's all a load of shit. The very same people that revile me, copy my work and sell it as their own," Alaric said angrily. Hannelore stood again, handing him the full pitcher to rinse with and when he was through, she wiped his face with the cloth.

"How could they not be jealous?" Hannelore whispered, moving strands of clean hair out of his eyes to look upon him. Alaric pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her little waist.

"You are the best wife God ever bestowed a man," Alaric replied, kissing Hannelore's flat, supple belly. 

"Wouldn't the best wife have given her man a child by now?" she asked, there was sadness in her voice. Alaric looked up into her alluring brown eyes.

"That, is no fault of yours. I am forced to travel too much. I am a bad husband and I admit I have often deprived you of my seed for selfish reasons. I don't want to rob you of your beauty and spirit by keeping you pregnant for fifteen years." 

Alaric felt a lump in his throat, thinking about his mother as he spoke and her years of constant pregnancy. He could remember her always as a haggard old woman, never as the pretty and carefree girl he imagined she had been before marriage. Anne Dusek had mothered eighteen children and now, after the plagues, only three sons survived. How she had been rewarded for her years of suffering, Alaric thought. He wanted to spare Hannelore the labors and losses, but when he watched her holding another woman's child, he never saw a greater loss than the one that shone in her eyes.

"You're a wonderful husband, don't be silly. I do have faith that God will give us a baby when the time is right, when you don't have to spread yourself so thin to support your family," she said, putting her hands on his broad shoulders. Alaric was still working to support his ailing father, his mother and two brothers at home. On their own, they would have been rich, but with extended family to feed, the couple hadn't much to spare. 

"No one throws their gold away these days," Alaric observed.

"Except Castiel, who seems to make a career out of it," Hannelore mused.

"It occurred to me you might already be with child by the time I returned. I guess I never thought about our Castiel giving you what I have not, until I was lonely in Venice."

"He's always very careful with himself when we are alone, for fear of how you might feel if I were to have his child," Hannelore said carefully. It was the first discussion they had had about the possibility.

"I could think of far worse things than having a child as lovely as you and Castiel," he said, as his fingertips played between her legs.

"There would be no way to be certain, of course," she replied. She gave a little shudder when his keen fingers slid inside her warm hole.

"It makes no difference to me, I love you both. I managed to save five hundred florins in Venice, so take what you will from Castiel and me and maybe you will return to Nurnberg with more than fancy dresses," he tactfully said. Alaric believed subtlety to be the one of the qualities of a true gentleman and always conducted himself so.

Hannelore said nothing, but went to Alaric, straddling his lap and kissing his enticing mouth. His penis had been erect since the moment he laid eyes on her in the bedroom with Castiel and it threatened to burst just being pressed to her. For three months he hadn't known the pleasure of another person's body. Hanne always encouraged him to go to the brothels with his friends in Venice, but whores of either sex never interested him much and frankly he had been too busy working.

Hanne's hands went between their bodies to rub his hard cock. She was good at it, as she was at many things, and for Alaric, her touch had become much like his own. She was always lusty and eager for his love, but over the years she had become a skilled and attentive lover, far different from the virgin he married. Alaric considered himself lucky. He knew many men who complained their wives didn't please them or were mean-spirited. Hannelore had shown him love, desire, care and respect since their first meeting. She had embraced his relationship with Castiel as if it were a very natural thing indeed. While her mouth found his again, he repeated it in his mind, "So lucky."

Alaric jammed his tongue into her mouth, provoking a noise of surprise from her. With shaky thighs on either side of his hips, Hannelore lined up his thick, swollen member with her opening and lowered herself onto it all at once. Alaric groaned as she slid his length into the unbelieveably tight passage. 

Even submerged in water, she was slick with arousal. She began to move with urgency and he was flattered to know, after months with Castiel's capable body at her disposal, she still wanted him as he wanted her. Hanne shifted around until she found just the right rythmn and angle to suit her needs. 

Alaric knew he'd found that sweet spot to rub, when her eyes closed and she smiled, with her pink lips parted ever so slightly. He caught one of her bouncing breasts in his hand and sucked the nipple into his mouth.She ground her pelvis into his with demand, rocking on top of him, never letting his cock get very far outside her body. Hanne's muscles were taut around his manhood, like a fist squeezing him. 

Knowing she was close, Alaric thrust his hips from underneath her, meeting her thighs with hard slaps of flesh on flesh. He slowed her by placing his hands firmly on her buttocks and grinding her at his own slow, tortuous pace. Rolling his hips, he concentrated his efforts on the spot behind her mound, deep inside. Hanne's mouth was on her husband's neck and she moaned, deep in her throat. She bit gently, the place where his neck met his shoulder and he speared her hard, making her climax with a series of little, muffled cries. Her body spasmed around his cock, nearly undoing him. Alaric took a deep breath, he wanted to indulge in her a little longer before he let himself go. 

Alaric had Hanne move to sit on one of the wide steps so he could position himself between her thighs, facing her.  It was precarious and rather slippery, but he was strong enough to hold her and keep his footing. He slid inside her again, water splashing all around them and Hanne spread her legs as far as she could for him. It was she who teased him this time, sucking on his neck and earlobe. She squeezed the firm flesh of his ass with both hands until he gave a groan, which was all pleasure when it should've been pain. Alaric felt inclined to ravage her, but remained steady and tender. It had been awhile since they made love and he didn't want to make her sore. For such a small woman, she handled his size well and never complained, in fact, there had been many times when she asked for more after she exhausted him.

Alaric kissed her mouth and she seductively ran her tongue along the bow of his upper lip. She reached behind him, stroking the cheeks of his ass, then running her fingers up and down his crack. She caressed his testicles and the area between them and his ass. Hannelore slid one gentle finger into his ass and Alaric moaned loudly. When she inserted a second finger, he nearly lost control. 

He tried hard to maintain steady thrusts, but Hannelore flexed herself around him and he was grasped so tight it undid him entirely. Alaric drove himself into her with no reservations and she whispered very unladylike words of encouragement in his ear. With one last powerful jab, he climaxed while buried to the hilt within her. Instead of releasing it all over her stomach or her ass or her breasts, like he did most of the time, he gave her what she wanted most. Judging by the look on her pretty face, Alaric thought she was very pleased indeed.





****                ****               ****

Alaric finished washing along with Hannelore who had bound her hair up to keep it from getting wet again. She had already bathed in the stream with Castiel that morning, as was their ritual. Every morning, they bathed together, then Castiel drew in his sketchbook while she wrote in her journal.

"You're like a fish, I swear it. Not even the empress bathes as much as you," Alaric commented when he heard about her morning bath. Hannelore only shrugged.

"The ancient Romans bathed every day," she reminded.

"And their empire fell to ruin, see what all this bathing leads to?" he joked. 

"The empire will be alive and well at dinner tonight," she said. 

Alaric gave her a curious smile and she began to explain that Castiel was giving a small costume party with an old Roman theme. Alaric shook his head knowing full well what this would involve, since he had spent the last several weeks viewing antique sculpture in Venice.

"I refuse to parade around in white bed linens all evening long, especially in front of the guests," Alaric said, defiantly pulling his chemise on.

 "All of the guests will be wearing similar attire," she clarified. 

"I don't care if Julius Caesar is coming, I will not wear it," he protested.

"I suppose you'll just have to retire early and miss getting the chance to speak with Willhelm Van Broyen, Niccolo, Archangelo della Badessa and all the other interesting guests," she tantalized him with promises of friends he hadn't seen in some time and Archangelo, a brilliant mathematician whom he had never met. She always knew just how to entice when he didn't want to do something.

"Willhelm, really? I haven't seen him in nearly two years," Alaric said excitedly.

"He's studying in Florence now. He told Castiel he's grown tired of soldiering and wishes to return to his humanist studies," Hannelore explained, as she took the arm Alaric offered and they started back toward the castle. Castiel met Willhelm for the first time in Florence a week before and knowing he and Alaric were old friends, invited him to the feast as his own guest and to stay on until Alaric returned.

"That really only means he's decided to go back to the ale-swilling, whoring ways of old," Alaric snidely said. Willhelm and Alaric, who had been best friends ever since they could remember, usually spoke ill of each other in jest. They made great sport out of antagonizing one another, in person and in sparse letters. The two had grown up together, as the Duseks' rented a small house on Willhelm's father's large estate in Nurnberg.

"I cannot help but blame myself for his situation, my father refused Willhelm's proposal to me and now he is a libertine bachelor with no direction in life," she sighed. Alaric took her hand, entwining his fingers together with hers.




Feast Of The Gods



"Oh Hanne, do not blame yourself. Willhelm has always been without direction, he's fickle and spoiled. Besides, he cannot last longer with a woman than one can say an Ave Maria."

Hannelore stopped and smiled at her husband and he could swear he never saw anything more beautiful than she was at that moment. Alaric's early life was filled with chores, crying babies and sickness, but never beauty. 

As a boy, the only beauty in his world was that which came to him in daydreams or in his imagination. Then, as a young man, he went into the world to seek it out, but he never found anything that moved him quite as much as Hannelore.  

Always a quiet observer of life, Alaric had been content to sit back, watching and documenting, but Hanne made him want to participate. Experiencing life with her made everything somehow new to him. 

Alaric was filled with dread when the news came of an arranged marriage awaiting him back in Nurnberg. Feeling very much like he was going to his death, Alaric left his lover, Castiel, behind in Florence and returned home to marry a virtual stranger chosen by his father. 

Alaric imagined a life of sneaking around with his male lover behind the back of an ignorant and prudish wife. Castiel even planned to open his workshop in nearby Cologne so that they might spend time together, away from the watchful eye of this wife. 

Alaric never expected to fall so madly in love with any woman, let alone his own wife. Never had he met anyone like Hanne, she was more intelligent than most men. He had been sure of his love for her almost upon their first meeting.

More than her beauty or brains, he loved the way she responded to him, when women were encouraged to just nod and bow to their husbands in silence, Hanne could always interest him in meaningful discussions or witty banter. He had learned a great deal from her, as her education was far better than his own. 

Hannelore was not the sort of wife to nag or bother him about money. When funds were short due to his taking on a time-consuming commission for little pay, Hannelore would sell her soaps, salves, and perfumes at the fair in Frankfurt and return with a purse full of florins. She also knew his boundaries, leaving him alone when he was working or brooding. She knew what pleased him and that, more often than not, was her very company.

"Master Dusek, I think you make me say about five hundred Ave Marias every time you make love to me,"





****              ****              ****





Guests were to begin arriving in an hour and Alaric was still in a huff over the costume. Castiel ignored Alaric's rant and began to dress Hannelore. 

Alaric watched from the bed while Castiel draped the white silk stola over Hanne's nude body. The full-length tunic fastened at the shoulders with decorative, gold clasps. High-waisted, the garment clung to her curvy body, accentuating her full breasts and womanly hips. Alaric clearly was finding it difficult to remain angry as Castiel teased and rubbed Hanne's nipples through the thin silk. 

Castiel was naked and it occured to Alaric just how much the young master's mind and body had ripened since the two men first became intimate six years before. Castiel was eighteen when they were introduced by Botticelli and was already very sexually experienced with both men and women, much more so than Alaric who was twenty-two at the time. 

Though sexually advanced, Castiel had been emotionally underdeveloped, wearing his feelings on his sleeve, something of which Alaric was quite the opposite. Raised and coddled by nurses and tutors, Castiel knew only a demanding kind of love until he met Alaric, who taught him how selfless real love could be. Sometimes love meant sacrifice, which was something Castiel had to learn the hard way. 

Now, he looked upon Castiel as a man; confident and kind, generous and mature. His youthful prettiness blossomed into handsome masculinity. He was still golden and boyish in looks, but he held a sophistication which was rough and unpolished all those years ago in Florence. 

Their love had changed with Castiel's maturity and Alaric's marriage. They were no longer ruled by feelings of desperation and doom. The friendship was strong as ever, but the romance was casual and open, not tense and volatile as it once was. Each knew the other had his own life to lead and accepted the distance which was often between them. Both men had been infuenced by Hannelore's unconditional serenity. 

Before Castiel, there were only awkward experiences with other males, for Alaric, it always seemed very one-side. Alaric let adoring apprentices and masters alike go down on their knees to please him, but never felt desire enough to reciprocate. Alaric could never be sure it was he they found so alluring or his work. He had never been convinced that his personality was all that superior to his skill with a burin or brush.

Castiel made it very clear, from the beginning of their affair, he wanted to be more than a passing fancy. He was in love with Alaric; claimed he had been since the first time they saw each other across the room at a banquet. For Alaric, who never made a hasty decision in his life, it took some time.

This revelation came while the two young men were sequestered atop a scaffolding in a Dominican convent, a few weeks after their first meeting, painting a large ceiling mural. The only distraction they had from the hours of intricate labor was endless conversation. 

Castiel was everything Alaric thought he himself was not; confident, charming, well-educated and daring. Alaric was surprised to find that Castiel, though he had been brought up much the same as a prince, was pleased most by simple, rustic things. Noble maidens clamored to have their portraits sketched by Lord Valten, but often he drew peasant or gypsy girls. Castiel, raised in the eden of his father's country estate, sought out beauty in the very places Alaric wished to leave behind. 

Alaric let himself love Castiel, in spite of the multitude of reasons they should not have been together. Alaric's perspective on life, art, and religion changed. He found he didn't want to live like a hypocrite any longer, painting demure and sexless, religious icons, while priests worshipped him with their mouths in private, as if he was Christ. He wanted to convey passion and he had, in every facet of his life. 

"There, you're a goddess, not that I ever doubted it," Castiel announced, taking Hannelore's hand and spinning her around like a dancer. 

"Breathtaking, you must have spent a fortune, Castiel," commented Alaric. Castiel only shrugged.

"After the bonfires last year, I let some merchants store their more luxurious wares here and in payment I received my pick of some very fine things."

A chill ran through Alaric just hearing about the bonfires again. Alaric's most acclaimed painting of Madonna and Child was ripped from a church and thrown onto the fifteen story inferno by the zealot monk Savonarola himself. The monk claimed Master Dusek was a known homosexual who painted the Madonna to look like a common whore. 

Thankfully, Alaric had not been in Florence at the time or he might have been arrested for sodomy like so many others. It sickened him to think that the same people who had danced around the burning "act of faith" and informed on so many good men, were probably the same people who cheered when Savonarola was hanged and burned for heresy a year later in the very same spot.

"It's only been a month since the lunatic's execution and already people have gone back to their nefarious ways," Castiel remarked with glee. Hannelore shook her head disapprovingly and tied a beaded, gold sash around her waist.

"Had you even curbed your lecherous ways in the slightest?" Alaric laughed, he knew very well Castiel had not. The monk's raids were the whole reason he retreated to the country to live. 

With no neighbors to spy on him and help which had been paid abundantly for their discretion, Castiel was free to lead whatever lifestyle he pleased. Often this lifestyle involved a house full of sassy, young male apprentices whose only occupations seemed to be flirting with and fawning over their master the whole day long. That is, until Hannelore put them to work pressing and selling Alaric's woodcuts in town.

"I have become a virtuous man, following the commandments and such," Castiel explained. Alaric nodded in mock seriousness and Hannelore fell over laughing beside him on the bed. The only time either of them heard Lord Valten speak of God was during the heat of his moment.

Recently one of Castiel's paintings of Christ was removed from a chapel because the women who came to confession admitted the painting gave them impure thoughts. He had intentionally made this very erotic depiction of Jesus, flanked by naked cherubs, to cause such a stir. To Castiel's amusement, no one seemed to notice his model for Christ was Alaric Dusek.

"You have been coveting another man's wife, have you not?" said Alaric.

"You, kind sir, are not my neighbor and live nowhere near me, therefore it's no sin," Castiel defended, he was still nude and moved onto the bed between Hanne and Alaric. 

"He hasn't murdered anyone, yet," Hannelore added. Castiel pushed Alaric gently down on the bed and on his hands and knees hovered over him. Their faces were only inches away from one another. Castiel's swelling cock grazed Alaric's bare stomach, sending a shiver through them both. Hannelore rolled onto her side to watch them. Alaric kissed Lord Valten, their tongues playing together in open mouths, while Alaric grasped Castiel's cock and stroked it. Moisture oozed from Castiel's pretty glans as Alaric let the tip of it glide against his abdomen, bumping the head of his own hard penis which peeked out of the unlaced breeches.

Castiel, frantic with need, fell upon Alaric. The two kissed and touched each other with such reckless force, they would certainly have bruises the next day. Alaric grabbed a handful of Castiel's glossy blonde hair and forced him over on his back. 

The two artists were always gentle and loving with Hannelore, but with each other, it often turned to playful roughness. It amused Hannelore that the men cleaved to no particular role. Sometimes Castiel could lay in submission one moment and then completely dominate Alaric the next. They had all grown bolder, in the course of their acquaintance. Such rough play made Hannelore wet with lust.  

Alaric's pants had slipped down and Hannelore admired his exposed buttocks. She slid her hand under the skirt to rub herself, knowing her husband was watching her. Alaric pressed his body against Castiel's smaller frame, pinning his arms down with strong but elegant hands and biting along his collarbone. 

Alaric continued down Castiel's well-defined body, kissing and biting his nipples and then digging his tongue into his navel. Castiel groaned his pleasure, as Alaric took his rigid penis into his mouth while still stroking it. Lord Valten whimpered when Alaric went lower, sucking his balls and swirling his tongue around each of them. He tasted of Hannelore's sweet cunt, it was no mystery to Alaric just what they were up to right before he arrived. Hannelore moved even closer when Castiel reached for her, yielding to his hungry kisses. 

Alaric relished the feel of Castiel's slightly curved cock slipping through his lips, the silky smoothness of the foreskin on his tongue, so familiar. 

Castiel was edging closer to orgasm, Alaric could feel the twitching begin at the base of the other man's cock. He sucked harder, burying Castiel's cock in his throat until his lips brushed fine blonde pubic hair. With a grunt, Castiel released a flood of hot semen and the master swallowed it expertly. 

Alaric gracefully wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand and moved to lay beside his lovers. Hannelore was resting her chin on Castiel's chest while he ran his fingers through the red-gold waves of her hair. Castiel encircled Alaric with his free arm and kissed him on the forehead.

"I shall never get any work done here, I'm afraid," Alaric mused.

"Loving this much is hard work, my friend," Castiel replied, turning to kiss Alaric's lips.

***                 ***             ***





The hour had come round and guests would arrive any moment.  Castiel and his only female servant, Maria, finished dressing Alaric. Hannelore had gone downstairs to supervise the final preparations. Maria, a middle aged and stout woman, helped tie Alaric's gold sash and place a crown of thin gold laurel on his head. Castiel was already dressed in a rich purple tunic, it fell just to his knees. Alaric's off-white toga was ankle-length and trimmed in gold.

"Stunning," Castiel announced. Maria smiled in agreement. She poured another cup of wine for Alaric, who still seemed worried.

"You make a great emperor," Alaric told him, sizing up the regal purple outfit, complete with decorated sandals.

"Here are your bracelets, m'lord," Maria reminded, handing Castiel a wooden box that contained two thick gold cuffs. He took one and handed the other one to Alaric.

"Thank you, my lovely Maria, you may go now," Castiel sent the older woman away with a playful slap on her ample bottom. Blushing, she crossed herself and made a hasty exit. Alaric was still shaking his head when the maid closed the door behind her.

"Why must you flirt with everything that breathes?" Alaric asked, irritated. Castiel gave a graceful shrug.

"My mother hired only male servants, thinking I would not bed them, except for Maria, who she thought would be too homely for me to make love to. She had grown tired of a house of broken-hearted servant girls. So, I flirted with Maria to annoy my mother, now it has become something of a habit," Castiel chuckled. "Besides, she makes the best chicken stew I have ever eaten, for that alone, I would give her a good "washing"."

"Though the blood that courses through your veins is German, you are unmistakably Italian," Alaric said, rolling his eyes. 





***                  ***              ***





Hannelore was in the dining hall with Lord Valten's herd of young male houseboys when the first guest arrived. Experience taught her that men knew nothing of arranging flowers. Even Alaric,who could paint a rose so realistic, one might be compelled to smell it, often relied on her to arrange flowers in a vase for him. Pink roses and lillies placed in glass jars made up centerpieces for the long dinner table, on which, Castiel's mother's best plates were displayed. Pewter goblets boasting the three pears of the Valten coat of arms sat above each plate.

"Mistress, a man has arrived out front in a peculiar looking wagon with a band of musicians. He's wearing a helmet and a skirt," Milo, the youngest footman, informed her, his brown eyes were wide with excitement.

A smile played at Hanne's full lips. It had to be Master Van Broyen. Willhelm always did make a flamboyant entrance. 

In 1494, just four years before, he had proposed to her. Dressed in the finest clothing, he had ridden up on a pure white horse to her father's home and asked for her hand, only to be denied a week later. Willhelm's father was the wealthiest man in Nurnberg, a friend of her father's, but still the children hadn't been allowed to marry. Unbeknownst to Hanne and Willhelm, her father had planned since she was an little girl for her to be married to Alaric Dusek.

All of Hannelore's sisters had made a point to discourage her from marrying Willhelm because he was quite fat. Hanne was able to see beyond his large waist, endeared by his kindness, humor and sensuality. They had much in common. Thankfully, she had the very same things in common with Alaric and their union had been sucessful match.

Hanne adored Willhelm and it pained her that he made himself so scarce since her marriage to Alaric. The newlyweds invited him to dinner many times, but when he was able to come, he didn't stay long. He never spoke to Hannelore alone. Often, his visits were with Alaric alone either in town or when the two happened to travel together to Cologne for business. 

For the last two years Willhelm served in the imperial army, commanding Nurnberg's militia abroad when they went off to secure the emperor's lands. This often involved fighting the French, the Swiss, rogue German barons and most recently, peasants in bloody, brutal revolt. News came to Nurnberg shortly after the revolt ended, Willhelm was wounded by an arrow and recovered, but Hannelore had wept anyway.

Hannelore ran through the dining hall and out into the front courtyard where the "peculiar" chariot Milo spoke of and two other wagons carrying entertainers and servants were being unloaded. Musicians and singers dressed in colorful robes wound their way around the stone columns and fountains, dancing and piping joyfully. Hanne could see the chariot's driver embarking up the drive, he wore a short, white toga, trimmed in crimson.  Tall and muscular, was the man, with short, sleek black hair and a sculpted body. He wore a glinting, metal helmet and carried a large sheathed sword on his wide leather belt. Hanne sighed, disappointed, for it couldn't be Willhelm. Looping her wispy, white shawl over the crook of her arm, she trudged on anyway, since Castiel and Alaric were still getting ready and unable to welcome the guests.

Musicians greeted her heartily with sweeping bows and removed their caps. Hanne smiled politely and met each one. She strolled steadily toward the man, nearly close enough to see his face. The tall, strapping man removed his helmet, clearly he could see her, but she could not yet make out his face. He stopped walking. 

Hannelore, upon realizing his identity, ran the rest of the way down the cypress-lined drive to him, her shining hair trailing out behind her.

Hanne embraced him, with her arms around his waist so forcefully that he dropped his helmet. Carefully, his strong arms went around her too, gently at first, then he indulged himself and held her tightly. He breathed in the familiar scent of her hair. 

"It must be Venus, for I have never beheld another more fair," he murmured.

"Oh Willhelm, are you well?" she gasped, he let his big hands fall to her hips. Her display of affection was most improper and something she would have never done in the streets of her hometown. He nodded, looking down at the ground and not directly at her.

"I'm well, are you?" he asked. Hanne reached up, tilting his dimpled, shaven chin so that he would look at her.

"Where is the rest of you?" she inquired. Willhelm looked into her doe-like brown eyes with his, the color of jade.

"I've left it in Flanders," he said simply. A solitary tear ran down her cheek and he wiped it away with his fingertips.

"You're the only person who does not think I am better for it," he made it seem like a question. His eyes were serious, but unflinching.

"It's not that, you are a picture of good health. My head is filled with imaginings of what hellish starvation or illness hath made you this way," her voice quivered. 

"I must admit, on nights of bitter cold and nagging hunger, the only thoughts which kept me warm were those of your... heathen cakes," he replied. Smirking at her, he held out his arm for her and she took it.

"Come with me then, I have many good things to feed you," Hannelore said, knowing very well it probably wasn't her baking he thought about.





***                ***               ***





"Tell me, Mistress Dusek, where is your ill-bred, contemptible, lout of a husband?" Willhelm asked, as he and Hannelore entered the house through open terrace doors on the side.

"He will be down shortly, God willing. He is most unhappy over the costume, Master Valten is trying to convince him to come downstairs," she replied, laughing. Willhelm gave a mischievous snicker.




Feast Of The Gods



"Does it not bother you that he plays Hadrian and Antinous with his boy behind your back?" Willhelm asked. Hannelore was angered by his insinuation that Alaric was somehow humiliating her. She knew it was only out of concern that Willhelm said such things. He knew of Alaric and Castiel's relationship of old, but knew not of Hannelore's approval of it since their marriage.

"He does nothing behind my back," she calmly pointed out. His eyes were full of longing for things that could not be his. Jealousy was making him blind to his friendship with Alaric.

"He parades his lover in front of you. A wife so fine deserves far more devotion."

"Willhelm, I do not own Alaric, just as he does not own me. We cannot choose who we love and one's love does not have to be limited to one person. Alaric and Castiel are both devoted to me and it's more love than any one woman should be allowed," she said and finally took a breath. Willhelm's full, red lips opened and then closed again. He looked more amused than puzzled, as he mulled over what she said. 

"I am sorry, I hadn't even considered...I'm foolishly jealous of Alaric, I always have been, long before you came along. I wanted to believe you were in an unhappy marriage; that I might lure you away and seduce you," he whispered, looking around to see if anyone might be within earshot. 

There was no one nearby, only the sounds of bustling servants in the other room. Willhelm let his hands go around her minute waist.

"I will not be lured away, know that," Hannelore said. Her pulse pounded in her throat and his look, so hungry and intense, made places in her body tighten and throb.

"Ah, but can you be seduced, Frau Dusek?" Willhelm asked. He leaned in, his mouth frighteningly close to hers, but he did not close the distance between them, even though her breath came in nervous pants.

"Please, don't try to kiss me, for I might forget that I am a lady," Hanne said, stepping back very slightly. Willhelm laughed sharply.

"And slap me?"

"No, and let you, I meant," replied Hannelore. 

Sounds of footsteps from above drew their attention to the stairs where Alaric and Castiel descended. Hannelore audibly caught her breath when she saw the pair. Castiel's short, royal purple tunic, embroidered with gold threads, hugged the perfection of his body, revealing expanses of bronzed legs. His glossy blonde hair was pulled back with a leather cord and a thin crown of gold ivy sat atop his head. His lips appeared quite red, as if he had been kissing for a long period of time or something else. 

Alaric's toga covered him to his ankles, draping over a long tunic of the same cream color and embroidered on the edges in gold also. The low cut of the neckline and short sleeves exposed just enough of his virile, lean body to titilate. He too wore a crown of hammered, gold leaves and his shoulder length hair was down. Alaric's chest was flushed and his cheeks tinged with pink. Hannelore knew at once they hadn't spent the whole time primping in the bedroom.

"I've taken so long at getting ready, my wife has found herself another man," Alaric commented. Hanne was not sure Alaric knew to whom she had been speaking. Alaric was sort of squinting at the man next to her.

"Greetings, Sir Willhelm, welcome to my home," said Castiel.

"It cannot be! Willhelm Van Broyen has always been fat and as unsightly as a dead monkey," Alaric gasped. He and Castiel were now standing on the last step, only a fathom away from Willhelm and Hannelore.

"Such language," Hannelore sighed. The contest of insults had begun.

"Master Dusek, weight may come and go from a man's body, but the conditions of brazen-faced knave and fobbing cheat from which you suffer are sadly incurable," Willhelm exclaimed dramatically. Both Alaric and Willhelm burst out laughing, then hugged.

"How are you, my brother?" asked Alaric, jovially.

"Fine, fine," Willhelm replied, as he and Alaric walked side by side. Hannelore fell in behind them to take the arm of Castiel while the four made their way out to the terrace.

"You look damn handsome, I must say. We were all glad to hear of your safe return and the honor of your knighthood," Alaric was saying. The sounds of the roving musicians and singers could be heard echoing from the front of the house.

"Thank you, it's very good to be back indeed," Willhelm said, whilst glancing over his shoulder to Hannelore.

****              ****           ****





Castiel was cautious and only to invited friends who were very discreet about their affairs. Though Savonarola and his squad of minions had been dispersed or executed, his followers were still abundant and more nosy than ever. Castiel often painted or engraved subject matter which could be considered "pagan" or "lewd". The state of his illigitimate birth and his late father's excommunication from the church alone were enough to shroud him in controversy, the subjects he depicted only added to this. He chose his friends carefully. 

Rumors of Castiel's homosexuality abounded for years in Florence, but had recently been refuted when he was seen in public, accompanied by a comely redhead who everyone assumed was his new bride. Many of his close friends knew the truth, that he was bisexual and Hannelore was really Alaric's wife whom they sometimes shared. The arrangement was the envy of some male friends who kept their sexuality a secret from disapproving wives.

Hannelore was seated with Alaric to her left and Castiel to her right. A sumptuous feast was brought before them with roast suckling pig, soups, salad, bread, cheeses and much wine. 

Guests were dressed in ancient Roman costume, according to their professions or social status. Niccolo, who had just been appointed Second Chancellor to the Signoria, wore the short embroidered tunic with a matching purple embroidered cape in the fashion of a Roman magistrate. 

Niccolo was a wiry man with piercing, stormy, dark eyes and a long narrow nose, attributes Hannelore thought to be unbecoming in others, but Niccolo seemed so powerful, so intelligent, these things only added to his mysterious allure. He sat across from her with Willhelm Van Broyen. 

Across from Alaric were Archangelo della Badessa and his wife, Simonetta. Hanne had never met the famous architect before or his new bride, but they interested her profoundly. 

Simonetta was a slender beauty, with long, straight black hair and large, dark eyes. Hanne could not recall ever having met a woman so fair who seemed so utterly unhappy. The young wife barely spoke and looked down at her lap while conversations went on without her. In contrast, her husband, Master Archangelo, was outgoing and lively, just as striking with dark, good looks, but slight in build and refined in features, pretty in a way that was almost feminine. 

Archangelo was Architect for the City of Florence, just as Hannelore's father was in Nurnberg. He came from a wealthy, noble family and with his elaborate purple toga and regal Roman looks, the young architect appeared as though he stepped right out of an ancient fresco. 

Hanne thought him to be a bit younger than her husband, perhaps in his early twenties like she and Castiel were. Whatever his age, he seemed disinterested in his wife, perhaps in everyone altogether. 

Upon introduction to Hannelore, Archangelo looked her over sneeringly, making her feel very much the common German girl she was. As Niccolo, Castiel and Willhelm focused their attentions on Hannelore, Archangelo was nearly oblivious to everyone but Alaric Dusek. Hanne didn't mind so much, she was happy her husband was taking the time to enjoy himself. 

Hanne reminded herself of the time her father looked over Archangelo's designs for a cathedral when asked his opinion by a cardinal and pronounced them "ill-conceived" and "fraught with dangerous error,". This made him much less intimidating to her.

Musicians played upbeat songs all through the meal. Seated at the opposite end of the table, were fellow German countrymen; young Sebastian Althoff, who operated his father's courier and banking service in Italy, Jeremias Von Zerzan, a wealthy merchant and his buxom, smiling, blonde wife, Cecilia. 

Hannelore had known the Von Zerzans and Sebastian for many years. Jeremias and Alaric were close friends and Sebastian was from Nurnberg and the same age as Hanne's younger brother. The Von Zerzans were in their thirties and one of the few other childless couples Hannelore and Alaric knew besides themselves. Everyone but Simonetta was involved in some sort of discussion. Hannelore and Cecilia were leaning around behind Alaric to giggle and whisper whilst Alaric and Archangelo spoke passionately about buildings and proportion and the mystery of human measurements.

"I've never heard anyone in such a passion over how one's feet correspond to the size of one's hands," Willhelm said, looking bored.

"The only anomaly in human proportion is the penis; it cannot be predicted and follows no specific guidelines. The male phallus breaks every rule with no regard to consequence whatsoever," Castiel explained, loudly. Everyone laughed uproariously. 

Simonetta blushed and then covered her mouth as her smile spread underneath. 

Hanne very much doubted Castiel mocked out of jealousy. Something told her Castiel would not have invited Archangelo had he feared such a situation. Likely, Castiel previously had been the subject of the architect's affection and was now passing it off to Alaric. Castiel was always very much in control of the outcome of things. He got what he wanted. There was no smugness in the attainment, it just was.

"Truer words were never spoken," Niccolo observed. "Wouldn't you agree, ladies?"

"Indeed, though I think the heart to be the body's most wayward organ," Hanne said quietly and then looked to Simonetta for her opinion, as Willhelm poured more wine for them.

"Perhaps the eyes, which seem to wander more than the other two combined," Simonetta replied, giving her husband a sideways glance. 

***                 ***             ***





Dishes were taken away and the small party began to dance and mingle. All but a few servants went back to their quarters for the evening. Alaric and Archangelo were so caught up in discussion, they barely seemed to notice dinner had ended and guests were moving about. 

Hannelore thought it was amusing, the two men so interested in one another's brilliant and progressive minds. She wondered if Alaric's mind was the only thing with which the handsome young architect had become enthralled. She had yet to witness her husband make advances toward anyone outside their marriage other than Castiel, but the thought excited her.

Herr and Frau Von Zerzan were dancing the Lauro together while a few lingering musicians played for them. When the dance ended, they called for the other two married couples to join them. Cecilia stood with her arms folded in front of her ample breasts and scowled at Alaric. No matter the threat, Alaric did not dance.

"It's alright darling, Castiel is always willing to dance with me," Hanne said, kissing Alaric's cheek as she got up.

"I could spend a fortune on dance lessons and never be the better for it. Castiel and Hanne met with The Maestro one time and they are marvelous," Alaric laughed.

"Would you care to join us?" Hanne asked Simonetta and Archangelo. 

"I too am a terrible dancer, perhaps Simonetta will join you," Archangelo said. It was obvious he wanted to be alone with her husband, Hanne thought.

"Come along, my lady, Sir Willhelm will show us his infamous holiday hopping step," said Hanne, gleefully taking Simonetta's hand. 





****             *****              ****





The party dwindled with the departure of the entertainers. Drunken laughter continued as everyone moved out into the sitting area, except Alaric and Archangelo, who remained in the dining room. Even Simonetta seemed to have opened up a bit when she found her company to be so friendly and casual. She and Hannelore sat together with Willhelm and Castiel. The others were still dancing, though the music had ended long before. 

"I'm terribly embarrassed, my husband has kept yours away for so long," Simonetta said, uncomfortably.

"Nonsense, just enjoy yourself and they'll eventually come out to see what they're missing," Hannelore advised. She felt Castiel's hand caressing her calf under the table. She wanted to drag him upstairs and ride him as one rides a steed.  

"I'm afraid they dont think they are missing anything," Simonetta laughed bitterly. Castiel gave her a sympathetic look. Hanne only shrugged. She knew why Simonetta was bitter, but it didn't make much sense to her. 

Their attention was suddenly on Cecilia Von Zerzan, who was boldly kissing Niccolo and young Sebastian alternately while her husband, Jeremias looked on. Cecilia's complicated blonde hairstyle had fallen from it's pinnings and her white stola was being invaded by the hands of the two men. Niccolo kissed the back of her neck while Sebastian's mouth went between her large breasts. Jeremias came to stand behind the attractive Sebastian, his large hands stroking the boy's back. Sebastian sighed heavily and directed Master Von Zerzan's curious hand to his crotch.

Hannelore watched for a moment, then turned to her companions to observe their reactions. While Willhelm and Castiel were watching eagerly with aroused expressions, Simonetta looked away.

Sebastian turned to Castiel, as if to get his approval, but Castiel's eyes were fixed on the large bulge forming under Sebastian's tunic.

"Would you mind terribly if we retired?" Jeremias said absently.

"Not at all, Sebastian knows the way to the guest quarters, enjoy yourselves," Castiel said, giving a slight bow. 

The four guests bid a hasty "goodnight" and were on the way up the staircase.

Simonetta uncovered her eyes when they were gone and everyone was laughed giddily.

"Now I know why they say Jeremias is the richest man in Germany," Willhelm remarked. Hannelore was leaning against him, with her leg resting against Castiel's thigh.

"I stayed with them in Cologne once, when I was very young and it is a trip I shall never forget," Castiel added. "Drunk, I went to the wrong room one night and found Cecilia in bed with two footmen, a stableboy and the cook."

Alaric appeared in the doorway and beckoned Hannelore to come to him. She excused herself and went into his arms.

"Archangelo is worried that we've angered our wives," he said. Hanne rubbed herself against his body and he pulled her into a snug embrace.

"Simonetta is angry as ever, but I am quite aroused by your flirtation," she whispered into his ear.

"Oh, are you now? Do you think I mean to have him?" Alaric purred.

"I know you mean to have him. Does he want it too?" she asked, Alaric pressed his erection into her belly and Hanne ached to have it inside her.

"He does, but only if we may be alone. I think he is jealous of you and Cas," Master Dusek said, smirking.  

"Very well, but I shall be sad to miss it," Hanne giggled, drunkenly. 

"I'm afraid it shall be no fun at all without you participating, or at least watching," Alaric pouted, Hanne stroked his hardness with the palm of her hand.

"Then make sure to position him at a good vantage point where I may watch."

"Do as you please tonight and I promise to join you very soon," he replied and gave her a long, wet kiss. "Also, would you be so kind as to find something or someone to occupy the lovely Simonetta?"

"Yes, my love. Perhaps Castiel can think of an activity for her," 

"My heart belongs to you," Alaric announced and blew her a kiss before disappearing behind the heavy curtain.

"Simonetta, would you like to join me for a stroll in the garden?" Hannelore asked, smiling with anticipation.





****               ****             ****





Simonetta and Hannelore walked arm in arm from the terrace into the garden. Hannelore lead her at a brisk pace while Willhelm and Castiel lagged behind, swigging from a bottle of wine and telling bawdy stories of whorehouses and of maidens with large behinds.

"Did your husband come out to tell you he's going to bed my husband?" Simonetta asked. Hannelore stopped for a second. Hanne doubted very much the men would make it to bed, since it was often Alaric's preference to do it elsewhere. No need to be tedious, Hanne knew what the woman was asking.

"Yes, does that upset you?" Hanne was still holding on to Simonetta's hand. Hanne liked the unhappy woman and decided to make it her mission to help Simonetta.

"Not really, he rarely makes love to me, I suppose he has to be with someone," said Simonetta and her tone was more annoyance than hurt.

"Is he homosexual then?" 

"No, he claims he finds me attractive, but he asks of me things I cannot bear," she paused. "He wants me to be agressive toward him; to initiate things."

Hannelore nearly laughed. Was that all he desired and their marriage suffered so for it? She felt sorry for Simonetta, obviously a new wife and a victim of a mismatched marriage arrangement. It was a pity that such a beauty knew not the pleasures of lovemaking that Hanne and Alaric found together. Had she and Alaric not been so open with one another, they might have found themselves in a similar situation.

"You might find if you compromised by trying to please him, he in return might please you very much. He's attractive and passionate enough," Hanne said.

"I have never taken any pleasure from our coupling, I don't even know how it could be," Simonetta said, gripping Hanne's hand tighter. "As far as the things he wants are concerned, I would not know how to begin." 

"Come, you will see," Hanne replied, pulling her along to go and spy on their husbands.

****              ****               ****





Through open terrace doors, the entire dining room could easily be seen, the drapes which covered them had been left open slightly. The gap was enough so that two persons might be able to stand side by side and see inside. Halfway across the room, Alaric and Archangelo were positioned at the large, oak table. Goblets, and a bottle of wine had been knocked over and Alaric was sitting on the table, leaning back with his hands behind his back. Angelo was kneeling between The Master's spread legs, sucking his long, thick cock.

Simonetta gasped and tried to bolt when she saw what was happening, but Hannelore quickly put her hand over the girl's soft lips from beside her.

"Ssh, watch them," Hanne whispered. Simonetta nodded and Hanne let her hand drop away.

Alaric put one hand on the back of Angelo's head for guidance, running his fingers through his dark, lustrous hair.  Angelo's hand slipped down to fist his own penis while he sucked Alaric.

Simonetta shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, but couldn't tear her exotic eyes from the men. Hanne could see chill bumps forming on the back the woman's bare neck and her small nipples were now visable through the thin linen stola she wore.

Castiel and Willhelm approached quietly, knowing well what Hannelore meant to do. A pair of arms went around Hannelore's waist and for a moment she thought it was Castiel, then she realized the arms were too large, too thick for him. Hanne didn't speak, but let Willhelm mold himself to her body. Simonetta took a nervous step backwards into Castiel who put his hand over her mouth as Hanne had, until she turned around to see who it was.

Alaric had Angelo bent over the tabletop, with his firm ass bared for all to see. Angelo's face was shoved into the table and his arms stretched out across it. His dainty, erect penis waved around underneath. Alaric gave the willing architect's cock a few teasing gropes before he took a decanter filled with olive oil from the center of the table. He poured a little oil on his own massive cock, then poured a generous amount down Angelo's lower back, letting it drizzle down the crack of his ass. 




Feast Of The Gods



Alaric turned slightly in the direction of the doorway and stroked his own penis for Hanne's benefit. Hannelore quivered at the sight of it. Simonetta took a very deep breath and pressed her backside harder into Castiel's groin.

"Have you ever seen anything so big?" Castiel whispered to Simonetta. She shook her head "no", as she watched Alaric fingering her husband's ass.

"I expect that shall hurt a great deal," Willhelm chortled.

Hannelore was distracted by Willhelm pulling up the edge of her gown, his big, warm hands massaging her ass underneath the silk, then his fingers probing her sopping wetness.

Alaric wasted no time with formalities and aimed his huge prick for Angelo's well-oiled ass. He pushed the head of it rather abruptly into the hole and it began to slide in smoothly. 

"Look how he loves it, such a dirty whore, your husband," Castiel told Simonetta and bit her earlobe playfully. The girl moaned and seemed to relax in his arms. Hannelore was awed by the short amount of time it took Simonetta to fall prey to Castiel's seduction.

Alaric thrust powerfully into Angelo's ass, letting his hips pound the man into the table beneath. Alaric's balls slapped against the olive-toned flesh of Angelo's ass and no mercy was shown. Angelo moaned over and over and called out Alaric's name; pleaded with him to do it harder, faster.

"Oh, Master Dusek!" the man exclaimed and Hannelore could no longer contain her giggles. Her shoulders vibrated against Willhelm and he too was infected with the laughter.

"Sshhh," Castiel warned and they shut up for a moment. 

Alaric pounded his admirer into a limp mass, holding Angelo in place with a fistful of his stylish hair. On occasion, Master Dusek glanced toward the doorway and smiled, knowing his wife was standing in the shadows, though he could not see her. 

Thinking of how wet Hanne probably was from watching, made Alaric all the more crazed. He sodomized Angelo's little ass with brute force and Angelo couldn't seem to get enough of it. Alaric knew this was not his first time with a man, Angelo had a reputation for his love of artists. It was known among Castiel's circle that Angelo was the sort of man whose arousal came in being dominated.

Clasps of Hanne's stola were being undone and Willhelm's hand crept inside to rub her right breast. She wrapped her arm around his neck and turned her head to kiss him. His lips were just as soft as she remembered and she opened them gently with her tongue. His other hand was still kneading her ass.

Again, their attention was drawn inside, where Alaric nailed Angelo with all his might. The ancient table creaked as though it might give way, but did not. Angelo was keening, high and enraptured, with no regard for the beating his body took. Alaric spanked Angelo's buttocks until they glowed an angry red. Master Dusek was so very close to climax, Hanne could tell by the way he slowed himself, trying to maintain control. He closed his eyes, threw his head back in ecstasy and lost all control.

Hanne turned to see Simonetta coming too, with Castiel's artistic hand under her dress. She whimpered loud enough, Hanne was sure the men inside would've heard if they hadn't been so lost in each other. Castiel smiled over at Hanne as the other woman came, trembling in his grasp.Alaric pulled his cock, still quite hard, from Angelo's ravaged hole. Angelo, fully erect and looking to Alaric with anticipation, turned around expecting to be gratified.

"Suck it," Alaric commanded and Archangelo fell at once to his knees, greedily licking clean Alaric's cock until he was pryed away from it. Alaric told him to lay down on the table and he eagerly did so. 

"Come, Simonetta, let us surprise your husband," Castiel said, taking the woman's reluctant hand.

"Now is your chance to punish him for ignoring you all evening," Hannelore encouraged. A vengeful smile spread across her lovely face.

Angelo, was on his back on the table, his erection pointing skyward to the frescoes. Castiel and Simonetta stealthily entered the room. Castiel unclasped her gown and let it fall to the floor. Hanne saw Alaric's eyes sweep across Simonetta's svelte, tan body. Alaric kissed her hand and bowed slightly as he led her to where her husband lay with his eyes closed, waiting for Alaric to give him a release.

Simonetta climbed onto the table and straddled her husband's waist. She grasped his penis agressively and inserted it into her dark haired crevice. Tossing to and fro with utter shock, Angelo tried to sit up, but she held him down with strong thighs.

"Simonetta?" he cried, his eyes wild and questioning. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shut up, filthy putana," she said, angrily slapping the surprised look from his face. His eyes glazed with desire, as his wife dug her fingernails into his shoulders and took him ruthlessly for the first time. Alaric and Castiel watched only for a moment, then left the couple alone and went to the terrace to find Hannelore and Willhelm.





****               ****               ****





Hanne and Sir Willhelm could barely contain their laughter as the events unfolded. The pulsing desire they felt was only temporarily dampened by the bizarre show. Willhelm still had his arms around her when Alaric, rearranging his tunic, came to them. Castiel followed.

"What have we here? Do I need to get my sword again?" Alaric shouted. Hanne was laughing so hard her stomach hurt.

"Please do not!" Willhelm exclaimed, in mock fear.

When their laughter subsided to sporadic titters, Hannelore yawned loudly.

"I've had far too much to drink. Willhelm is going to carry me upstairs. Aren't you?" she announced.

"As my lady wishes," he replied politely. Alaric kissed her cheek.

"Castiel will help me scrub up and we'll come to bed very soon," he told her.

"By all means, wash up," Hanne teased, wrinkling her nose at his clean, but sweaty, masculine scent. Sounds of Simonetta's pleasure drifted out into the night and Hannelore smiled.

"The two of you are far better than any priest at saving marriages," Alaric told Castiel and Hanne. He took Castiel's hand and went in the opposite direction.





****              ****                 ****





Willhelm picked Hannelore up at the foot of the stairs, as if she weighed nothing and carried her up the lantern lined stone staircase, much as her husband had on their wedding night. 

Inside Castiel's expansive sleeping quarters, Willhelm sat her down on the large, carved bed. He lit the lamp and she admired his athletic body in the dim, warm light. She reflected on the time in her father's garden when Willhelm's hands commanded her virginal body. 

He was the first to kiss her, the first to dare touch between her legs. She had begged him to give her more, but he refused, even though both thought her father would surely accept Willhelm's proposal. How she had recalled the stolen moments they shared on the garden bench, a hundred times after he made her come with his long, practiced fingers. 

Hannelore undid the remaining clasps of her stola and whisked it off. Her sandals were long gone and she knew not where. She knelt on the bed before Willhelm and let him drink in her curvaceous form. Her skin was the color of alabaster, her thighs and bottom plump and her belly perfectly flat. Delicate hands slid to cup her own breasts, round and ripe, with full, rosy nipples. Willhelm moved closer to the bed, but she stopped him.

"Now you must undress for me," she said. Willhelm hesitated, then slowly shed his tunic, tossing it on a nearby chair. 

Hanne watched patiently while he removed his sandals and underthings, the sight of his hard body made her throb with need. She had been taunted and aroused so many times this night, her juices slickened her thighs. 

Willhelm's body was unyielding under her small hands, solid and smooth as marble. She stroked the light covering of black hair on his chest and let her hands wander, over the middle of his back, across the pronounced dip there, which only men possessed. His erection, not lengthly, but so very thick, dug into her hip and she unconsciously shifted herself, trying to be nearer to it. 

As he moved over her, holding himself up with muscled arms on either side of her shoulders, he sprinkled her throat and chest with tiny kisses. Onward he descended, biting her nipples and flicking each one with his tongue until she cried out. 

"Willhelm, do it now," she begged, breathless and wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him toward her. 

Forcing him to give in was far too easy, but Hanne suspected he would do anything she wished out of sheer adoration. Alaric, who exhibited infinite patience and Castiel, who was willful enough to play with her the whole day long, were not so easily persuaded. Willhelm submitted to her pleas and plunged his cock straight into her scorching depths, drawing a sharp cry from her when he stretched her wide. 

Her mind reeled with Willhelm's contrast to her husband and Castiel, the only two men to whom she ever made love. His manhood felt divine, spreading her apart, but the strokes he made were short and shallow and she felt empty upon every thrust when he did not linger deep inside. She tightened her legs around him, trying to hold him closer, but he took it as an invitation to move more quickly. Never had she been made love to so hastily. Even when Alaric was in such a passion that he did not remove his boots, he took heed to make her climax first. 

Hanne thought of Alaric and how every day in Nurnberg, she brought him lunch in his workshop and nearly every day he made love to her in some interesting way on the hard wood floor of the printshop. Some days he made her weep from so much love and pleasure.

Willhelm, with reddened cheeks, screwed into Hanne, smiling down at her. Wildly, he jammed himself into her one last time, squeezed his eyes closed and then pulled away to release himself on her belly. Hanne would swear later, that the experience took all of thirty seconds.

Triumphant, Sir Willhelm rolled onto his side next to her and beheld her in contented silence for just a moment before he fell unconscious with a smile still on his lips. Hannelore sat up and balked openly, though she was alone besides the angelic, sleeping Willhelm. She was not angry, for it was she who hurried him along.

"Ave Maria, gratia plena..." Hanne mused. Alaric did not jest when he'd spoken of Willhelm's short-lived stamina. As always, Alaric had the confidence to let her experience another man, knowing she would not stray from him.

Hanne rose to wash herself at the basin before her lovers came to her. She heard them running down the corridor and before she could dry herself they were in the room. The two men glistened with water and were naked to the waist with their togas wrapped around them.

"Heigh! What happened to him?" Alaric asked, taking his wife's hand and kissing it. Hannelore trailed her fingers down his damp chest.

"We made love and he fell asleep," Hannelore replied, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Asleep? He appears to be dead drunk," Castiel pointed out, lifting Willhelm's arm and then letting it fall limply back to the bed.

"Are you sated, my love?" Alaric inquired. Hannelore threw a light blanket over Willhelm's unconscious body and kissed his cheek tenderly.

"I had yet to even begin when he finished," she said, solemnly.

"You have been spoiled by Castiel, not every man can make love a dozen times in one night," Alaric laughed. They were watching Castiel, who threw a pillow onto the floor, then the blanket she had placed on Willhelm.

"Do you think he can be moved?" Hannelore asked, wondering if Alaric and Castiel could lift Willhelm. They were stronger than they looked, but Willhelm was quite bulky.  Castiel had climbed onto the bed beside him.

"Certainly. Pick thee hence, Sir Willhelm, Knight of Faltering Potency," Castiel grunted, giving the sleeping man a good shove. Willhelm's limp body tumbled the short distance to the floor with a muffled "thud". Castiel smiled, finished with the task at hand.

"Anything can be moved, it is only a matter of leverage," Castiel explained while fluffing the remaining pillows and straightening the linens.

"Castiel, you are a wicked thing," Hanne scolded, but moved onto the bed with him. She glanced over the edge of the bed to find Willhelm undisturbed by the relocation.

"If I were perfectly sweet, I'm afraid I would be most boring," he didn't try to defend himself in the least.

"I wouldn't wish to make you any other way," Hannelore told him. Castiel swept her into a snug embrace, attacking her mouth with his own, his bare chest warm against her breast, as she yanked free the silk which was wrapped around his waist.

Alaric discovered, though wayworn, he had once again become aroused watching Castiel with his wife. He never grew tired of watching his lover please Hanne. Since the very first night, when Alaric called Castiel to their bed to take Hannelore's virginity, it had thrilled Alaric to see them making love.

Hanne and Castiel suffered from a burning lack of gratification, the product of a night filled with so many attractions. Alaric undressed the rest of the way and went to sit beside them on the bed, as they rolled together, a flurry of hands and mouths. Castiel caught Hanne and moved to rest on his belly between her thighs, which he had spread wide. Arching her back, she offered herself to his adept tongue.

"Alaric," she whispered, taking the hand he offered. Knowing she wanted him to suck her nipples while Castiel pleasured her orally, he obliged her. 

Castiel licked gently at her clitoris, with just a tickle of pressure, side to side. He inserted a thin finger into the hollow of her, seeking out the place which made her writhe. Already she buckled under his touch. She could not move, for two pairs of strong hands held her in place.

Alaric cupped her breasts with both beautiful hands and sucked each nipple, twisting it between his lips and teasing with his tongue. 

Hanne felt the shiver of pleasure travel down the invisible line from her nipple to the engorged flesh under Castiel's tongue. 

Alaric grazed her nipple lightly with teeth, while pinching the other one between his fingers and at the same time Castiel sucked her clitoris firmly between his lips and ran his tongue over it. 

Hannelore trembled, inside and out, as the two men brought her to a shuddering climax. Castiel kept on, licking her clit ever so gently, slowly, bringing her again and again, until she swore at him and begged him to stop.

With husky laughter, Castiel leaned over Hanne to kiss Alaric, letting the tip of his hard cock brush against the top of her breast. Alaric opened his mouth to Castiel's, tasting his wife there when he did. Their kiss was brief, Castiel was eager to get back to the temptation between Hanne's ivory thighs. 

Usually, Castiel was the victor at games of teasing and withholding himself from either partner, but not this day. There had been enough play, his patience had worn thin, he needed to be buried deep within her.

Castiel moved on top of Hannelore and delved into those depths with urgency. With one hand, he slid himself inside her tight lair. Closing his eyes, Castiel placed one of her shapely legs on his shoulder to better access her reaches and sank his hardness into her as far as it would go. She pushed her hips to meet him, wanting more. 

On his knees, he propped her other leg on his shoulder, taking her small foot in his hand and kissing along the arch of it. He exalted her with his cock, all the while, circling his hips to hit all her most sensitive spots. 

Alaric sat next to his wife, watching her go wanton beneath Castiel's experienced touch. His penis throbbed for her again, though he did not know if the rest of his aching body would comply. Castiel, energetic as ever, showed no signs of stopping and he moved Hannelore into position after position, never slowing the speed with which he drove his hard cock into that moist, narrow aperture. 

Hanne went to her hands and knees to let Castiel take her from behind. There was something animal and primitive about coupling this way, Hanne thought, as his hips hammered her bottom. 

Castiel's lovemaking was pretty torture, making her orgasm when she thought to do so again was to die. Seeing Alaric next to her, so hard and ready only spurred her to further arousal. So much stimulation overwhelmed her, she found herself thinking she might like to take them both at the same time. It was something which was discussed before, but never came to fruition. 

Alaric worried the he would hurt her if he took her ass, but it didn't mean Castiel could not. Alaric certainly seemed to enjoy it, Hanne thought there was no reason she should not. While Alaric was away in Venice, she and Castiel began to experiment. First he had used his tongue on her, then one finger, then two, then finally his cock and it was glorious.

Castiel's movements became more reckless and he held her tight, with one arm under her breasts and pulled her back to meet his thrusts. His face was buried in all her gorgeous, long hair and his other hand went to rub her clit, sending her over the edge one more time before he burst, hot semen splattering her womb.

Breathing heavily, Castiel fell sideways on the bed and Hannelore simply sat back for a moment to collect herself.

"Have you grown tired?" Alaric asked. He had been sitting patiently, but was still very aroused. Hannelore smiled when she saw that he was hard.

"No, I'm strangely invigorated. Lie down," she told him.

"As you like," was his reply and he wasted no time in doing so. 

Hannelore crawled the short way to him, then straddled his hips. With very little effort, his big cock slid in, and moved, sheathed in a channel still dripping wet with Castiel's come. 

"Oh hell..." Alaric gasped, his head lolling back against the mattress as the warm juices of his two lovers drenched his pelvis. Hanne rotated her hips slowly, impaled on his cock and the friction was almost unbearable. 

She was so hot, so burning hot around him and he wondered how she could stand to take on so much. But, looking upon her, with her eyes locked on his expression and a gratified smile on her face as she undulated, he knew she loved nothing more at that moment. His wife was quite insatiable at times.

Castiel's erection had only flagged for a short while and he was once again hard as stone.

"Castiel, I want you," Hanne managed to form the words in between vocalizations of satisfaction. Castiel rose, went to his desk and retrieved a small vial of linseed oil which he kept for painting and other "household" uses.

Alaric was half out of his mind with desire, but still surprised by his wife's request.

"Are you sure that this is what you want?" he asked. Hanne never ceased her movements on top of him.

"Oh, yes," she said, between moans. Castiel moved behind her. 

Spreading the cheeks of her ass apart with his hands, he licked her up and down to prepare. He dipped his finger inside the vial, then spread some of the oil over her small, puckered hole. She slowed herself, so Castiel could work the oil inside her with his finger. 

Hannelore shook as he did this, Alaric's cock still hard and throbbing within her. He returned to her ass, rubbing some of the oil on his cock before casting the empty vial aside. 

He gently eased it into the the opening a bit at a time. Hanne felt him hesitate at first, then move deeper when he realized she could take it. Castiel's whole length slid inside and Hanne sighed loudly, she began to move on top of Alaric once again as Castiel moved inside her. Hanne felt as if she might be pulled apart by their swollen members, but it was an exhilarating feeling; the two cocks, moving inside her in unison. Alaric's hand caressed her thigh and drifted over to stroke Castiel's hip. 




Feast Of The Gods



Alaric felt Castiel's cock rub against his through the thin layer of flesh dividing them. Together, the three of them were melded, a mass of rampant cravings. Hanne started to come, harder than she ever had before, as the fury of their lovemaking assailed her senses. She felt so full, so decadent, and yet so complete all at the same time. Hannelore let out a scream as she climaxed, her body constricting as she did. Alaric and Castiel were clamped tight by her peak, each feeling nearly unmanned by it. Both men slipped away with her, filling her even more full of their seed, drowing, dizzy in their own euphoria. 

****             ****                 ****





Alaric's eyes were closed, though he talked and smiled, Hanne knew he would soon be asleep. She watched Castiel washing himself in the basin after she had already done so herself.

Castiel slid underneath the sheet with her and pulled her close to his cool, damp body.Hannelore buried her face against his chest. This was how they had slept for the three months Alaric was in Venice. Hanne melted into his embrace. Alaric was completely still beside them.

"If we have a child together, what do you think it will be like?" Castiel asked, softly. Hanne looked up at him in the dim lamp light. Alaric must have found the time to tell him, it should've occured to her when he came inside her, but she had been too caught up to think. 

"I don't know, do you think I should start hiring the most unappealing servants in town right away?"

He laughed loudly and Alaric moaned in his sleep. 

"Probably. I think our child would be handsome and intelligent. Certainly he will be rich, as the heir to my estate," Castiel explained.

"Castiel, to acknowledge that child would be impossible," she said.

"A man can leave his fortune to his godchild, it's no scandal." 

"What if you marry and have other children?" she asked.

"It is likely I will never marry. As you well know, most women could not stand my unconventional life and I am not willing to give up such freedom."

"There would be no way of knowing if the child is yours or not, unless it looks very much like you," said Hanne.

"It does not matter, I would love it anyway," he said, and kissed the top of her head.

"Though it is Alaric's ring I wear, I often forget that you are not my husband as well," she chuckled.

"As do I," Castiel replied, kissing her again.





****               ****             ****

Hannelore and Alaric spent three more months with Castiel at the country estate. To the trio of lovers, it was very much like an eden, a dream from which no one wanted to awaken. Hannelore documented all the plants she could find and their uses while Castiel sketched them in a book for her. Alaric painted numerous watercolors of the surrounding landscape and it's animals when he wasn't busy taking the portraits of all the wealthy patrons who sought him out.

Archangelo and Simonetta were frequent guests, though none of their subsequent visits were ever as strange as that first one. The couple seemed completely different, in fact, Hanne and Alaric agreed they appeared to be quite in love. At dinner, Archangelo had only attention for his wife. Alaric didn't seem to mind at all.

Sir Willhelm, Knight of the Order of the Golden Fleece, stayed on a few days longer, before riding back to Florence. He made great strides to prove to Hannelore that he could please her in bed. Alaric and Castiel played cards every afternoon in the upstairs studio and from Hanne's moans across the hall, they could tell Willhelm had improved considerably. 

The following spring, Willhelm returned to Nurnberg with a shockingly young Italian bride named Crescentia. Being that Hanne was one of the very few Italian speaking women in town, the two became great friends, just as their husbands. 

The Duseks could have stayed forever. But, Alaric had a house to look after, a family to provide for, apprentices to teach and a country of artists to influence. The Signoria, through Niccolo, had offered Alaric a permanent position as  artist for the city. He was offered a large home, a generous yearly stipend and freedom from taxation. Alaric gave it careful consideration, but then declined. 

The government in Florence was unstable, subject to tyranny and foreign invasion. Though Alaric felt he had finally achieved the social status and respect he worked so hard for in Florence, it would mean nothing to him if he had to worry over his wife's safety when he was away.

Nurnberg would always be their home, even though it was colder there in winter and he was considered more a skilled laborer than a prince. It was unlikely in Nurnberg he would wake up one morning to find his home occupied by the French Army and that was something which could never be guaranteed in Florence. 

Alaric's dream had been to breathe new life into German painting, not to leave Germany forever. Hanne and Alaric would miss Castiel terribly, as they always did when it was time to go back to their lives in Nurnberg, but they would always return to him. Hannelore was less sad about leaving when she noticed Castiel and young Sebastian spending more and more time together.

Goodbyes were said and Hanne and Alaric departed the Valten estate in late September of 1498. They were to spend a week in Venice as the guest of Master Giovanni Bellini before crossing The Alps once again. Alaric had painted another self-portrait as a gift to the elderly master. The portrait had been so lifelike, when Master Giovanni's pet dog saw it, he had barked and wagged his tail, thinking it was Alaric himself.

Giovanni and Hannelore got along wonderfully. Alaric thought the sweet old man was a bit smitten with his Hanne and it amused him a great deal. The master asked Alaric if Hanne might do him the favor of modeling for a portrait. Hannelore agreed to this great honor. Bellini rarely painted portraits, his subjects were usually of a religious nature.

Master Giovanni said he only needed to do preliminary sketches of her and he would paint the portrait later. This came as a great relief to Hanne, for she had not felt well the entire time in Venice. The smells of the city seemed to repulse her like never before and she had strange dreams.

Hanne managed to stand immobile in the sweltering hot studio while the old master sketched her with his arthritic hands. Just as Bellini pronounced the sketches finished, Hannelore swooned.

For Hanne, there was darkness crashing down upon her and the muffled sounds of frantic voices. When she finally came to, Alaric and Giovanni, their faces twisted with concern, were crowded around her.

"Hanne, are you alright? You've fainted," Alaric said. They helped her to sit up slowly. She took the cup of water Giovanni offered.

"I do not faint," she mumbled, while straightening her rumpled, blue velvet gown.

"Are you ill?" Alaric asked. 

"Yes and no," she replied, smiling. A light of joy came into his eyes when he made the connection.

Master Bellini slapped Alaric on the back and congratulated them both. Alaric could barely contain his excitement.

"I think in honor of your condition, I shall paint you as The Madonna and when your child comes, Alaric can send me drawings of the infant's face and I will paint the Christ child from those drawings," Master Bellini announced. Everyone agreed it was a wonderful idea and the couple thanked their friend for the tribute. The painting, when finished, would come to be regarded as Bellini's finest Madonna and Child.

When Hannelore went over the pages of her journal, she realized she was nearly three months along in her pregnancy. How the time had drifted by so quickly at the Valten estate. Alaric inquired as to whether she would like to stay in Italy and return to Castiel's home to give birth, instead of embarking on a long journey home. As much as Hanne wanted Castiel present for the birth, she wished to have her family and her cherished servant Katherine about her more than anything.

At the end of March, 1499, after laboring just eight hours, Hannelore gave birth to a son. Everyone remarked on how well the birth had gone. While Hannelore rested, the baby was presented by the servant, Katherine, to Alaric Dusek.

"Meet your son, Sir," Katherine said, handing the swaddled bundle to him. Alaric was no stranger to holding a baby, this man who had once had so many younger siblings. 

As he folded back the blanket of the squirming, robust, infant, he beheld the beautiful child. The boy had a golden, curly head of hair and his mother's fine, soft features, but his tiny, regal and slightly upturned nose, was the only subtle clue of his royal, Valten blood. Alaric smiled down at him. Never had he thought he could love so much in his lifetime.

"Johannes Castiel," Alaric announced to the crowd of onlooking family members, who were none the wiser to the child's paternity. Castiel would be with them in two months time, when the roads were passable. He will be most proud, thought Alaric.

Alaric returned the baby to Katherine and went to see his wife. He watched Hannelore sleeping, as lovely as ever, perhaps she had grown even more so with time. She told him once that she would work steadfast to make him happy and at the time kidded her that making him happy was quite impossible. He knew now and was glad, that he had been so very wrong.



Feast Of The Rose Garlands



Hannelore Brassenberg was the favorite and youngest daughter of respected Nurnberg architect and inventor Jakob Brassenberg. Jakob's adoration for his daughter was most evident in the generous amount of time he allowed her to remain unmarried. Hannelore's five older sisters all were arranged into marriage by the time they were fifteen years of age. Hanne, as her doting father called her, at eighteen was still at home learning domestic duties from her mother and assisting Jakob in his hobbies of alchemy and medicine.

Jakob's friends in town joked that Hanne was too apt an apprentice to be married off and would surely become a spinster. Though Jakob valued his daughter's assistance greatly, in truth, he had far grander plans for the beautiful and intelligent girl. Hanne received formal education as a young child at a convent unlike the rest of the Brassenberg girls who simply were taught to read and write at home. Hanne learned Greek and Latin, as well as thorough Biblical teachings, from the very progressive thinking nuns of St. Cecilia in Bremen. Having returned to her beloved home at fourteen, Hanne expected to be married right away to one of her father's apprentices or one of his wealthy friends, but it was not to be. Jakob was, in fact, grooming her to be the wife of a family friend, the great master painter Alaric Dusek.

The brilliant twenty-three year old artist was the son of Jakob Brassenberg's best friend, Johannes Dusek. Alaric was on another sojourn to Italy, a quest to refine his skills in perspective and human form. At his young age, the artist had won great acclaim, riches and success. Just two years after Columbus sailed to the new world, Alaric Dusek was considered by many to be the most talented and famous artist in the world. Unbeknownst to either Hannelore or Alaric, their respective parents had agreed that the two would marry upon Alaric's return from Florence.

One day in April, Hanne had come to town from her family's country house just outside the city's massive gates, to assist her sister Margreth in caring for her newborn son and the three elder children. Margreth was still weak from a difficult birth and Hanne had been eager to help with her sister's adorable, fat and fair children while their father was working.

"Hanne, will Father ever let you marry and begin a family of your own?" Margreth asked, smirking at Hanne who was rocking the baby's cradle with her foot while feeding the two year-old his porridge.

It wasn't as if Hannelore was an homely girl with no prospects, she was commonly known as the most striking of all Jakob's comely daughters. The only redhead in a family of blondes, Hanne was always noticed. Men of the city often watched her as she did the marketing for her mother with red curls escaping from under her headdress and ample bosom threatening to pop from her bodice. Hanne's youthful face and cheerful personality also captivated the male population. She could make even the most dour soul smile.

"I've had three proposals and Father has refused them all. I shall probably wither and dry up before he decides who I'll wed." Hanne sighed. She had grown tired of waiting patiently to start her life. She longed for love, friendship and intimacy with a man. Hanne felt desire well up inside every time a young man flirted with her in the square or heated glances were exchanged with a fine gentleman at a feast. It was past time that she experience the act of love.

"Poor Hanne, perhaps Father wants more for you than to be the wife of a boring cobbler or an overweight jurist." said Margreth.

"I could do far worse than Counselor Willhelm. He's a bit overweight, this is true, but he's kind, humorous and rich." Hanne replied while wiping her nephew's face with a damp cloth.

"Sister, I know you all too well. You only wish to marry the ponderous lawyer's library. You would let those chubby fingers fiddle with you for a peek at his vast collection of Latin volumes." The elder sister teased.

"His fingers aren't at all chubby and are quite adept. I let him fiddle with me for no reason at all, if you must know." Hanne announced to Margreth who wore a shocked expression on a face similarly beautiful to Hanne's own.

"You're a wicked girl, which is why I love you, dear Sister." Margreth switched her ten month old son to nurse at her right breast. 

"I am curious who I'm intended to marry. It has to be someone soon, Father has said I will not return to the convent, thankfully."

"Master Dusek, the elder, told Pawel that Alaric returns from Florence on the feast day and he is to be wed immediately." Margreth referred to her husband, Pawel, who was one of the elder Dusek's craftsmen.

Hannelore felt the color rise to her pale cheeks at the mention of the famous Alaric Dusek. She hadn't seen him since she was a child, but his most recent self-portrait hung in his parents' home. He was the most eligible bachelor in the city, even though he was hardly ever there. There had long been a rumor circulating that his father insisted he take a German wife. Hanne thought the rumor was mostly wishful thinking among Nurnberg's single women.

Alaric had been a shy boy who was quickly pronounced a genius and then apprenticed to various out-of-town master painters and engravers, as was the tradition among artisans of that time. Hanne only met the perpetually travelling Dusek once when he was fifteen and she was ten. Alaric had sketched her as a gift to her father and that portrait still held a place of honor in her father's workshop.

"Surely not. Likely he brings his betrothed from Venice or Florence; a woman of noble heritage." Hanne clarified. Pretty blonde Margreth shook her head at the smart, yet naive girl.

"No Italian noblewoman could marry the son of a German goldsmith, no matter how skilled or rich he is." 

Hanne wouldn't allow herself the luxury of thinking she might become the wife of the incredibly handsome painter. Her knees became weak, even at ten years old when she first saw him . The reaction came again when she saw the portrait of a man with long, curling, light brown hair , wide honey colored eyes and angelic red lips. Other works of his; drawings in particular, on display in town, seemed alive with passion and sensuality. If by some strange occurence, Alaric was to be her husband, Hanne prayed the passion conveyed in his art was with him in all things.

"He'll probably be engaged to the magistrate's trollop of a daughter." Hanne finally said, feeling sorry for herself. Margreth and Hanne were still disagreeing when their younger brother, Hans, who was sixteen, came to fetch Hanne back to their house.

At the end of the short ride back, Hanne was quickly proven wrong. Alaric Dusek's parents were visiting with her mother and father in the kitchen. She was instructed to sit with them after greetings were exchanged. Hanne sat between Alaric's pregnant mother and her own mother.

Things Hannelore already knew from her conversation with Margreth were explained to her again. She listened graciously to Alaric's father as he recounted tales of his son's travels in Italy and other parts of Europe from Alaric's many letters while abroad. Alaric had purchased a large house in Nurnberg in which to live with a bride of his father's choosing. Alaric did not yet know his father had chosen Hannelore Brassenberg for him. Hanne supposed it didn't matter much who the bride was since it was apparent that neither party could refuse this union.

Hanne was given a large picture still in it's crate; a gift from her fiancée. The crate contained yet another superb self portrait of Alaric, depicting a fine gentleman, no longer the boy who set out to experience the world. In this portrait, he held a single flower in his hand and an inscription in Latin read: "My affairs will go on as ordained by God.". The beauty of it took Hanne's breath away, her heart pounded and blood rushed through her to places much lower while viewing the likeness of Alaric's virility. His shoulder and collarbone were revealed by the cut of his expensive chemise and she sinfully wondered what it would be like to put her mouth to that marvelous place. Hanne chastised herself, for those were not the thoughts of a virtuous lady. Her thoughts often wandered where they aught not, along with her eyes and hands.

Thoughtfully, Alaric had sent, along with his portrait; two cases of wine for her parents and a bolt of fine Italian, emerald-colored, silk brocade for her wedding gown. Hanne tried hard to contain her elation, but the Duseks noticed anyway and were thrilled with the success of their matchmaking. 

"You are now the most envied girl in all of Germany." Her father said to her.

"And perhaps my son is the most envied man in all of Nurnberg. The two of you will have many attractive children, of this I am certain." Alaric's father said, kissing Hanne's hand across the table.

"Thank you,my lord, I will be a good wife, I promise you this." Hanne said quietly.





Feast Of The Rose Garlands



"They forbid you to enjoy it as well, but do you think that's stopped anyone?" Fye interjected.

"Does it hurt much?" Hanne asked, she was a little afraid of that aspect of lovemaking.

"It will if he's any man at all." Fye said, winking at her.

"Steffan said Alaric draws himself nude and that he's endowed like a horse." Lype, her nineteen year-old sister chirped. Lype's husband, Steffan was apprentice to Johannes Dusek as a gold engraver.

Hanne stared at Lype in disbelief and shock, her mouth was open and her eyes were wild. 

"Perhaps he exaggerates. Shut up, Lype, you'll scare her to death." Elisabeth scolded. They finished getting dressed.

"I dont know Hanne, they say he has the most accurate sense of perspective, that reality in art is his obsession..." Lype teased. Elisabeth hugged her younger sister to her plump body.

"All men are braggarts when it comes to their manhood, I'm sure the illustrious Master Dusek is no exception." Fye, always reassuring said. 

Hanne was still frightened when they reached their father's house. It was imperative that she be a good wife to Alaric, even if it meant the pain of physical incompatibility. The memory of his strong virile body and beautiful features were enough to make her believe she might endure anything to have him next to her every night for the rest of their lives.





Feast Of The Rose Garlands



When the young gentleman saw Hannelore, he didn't bother to remove his hat, which Hanne thought to be very rude of him. The only thing spoiling his young,graceful face and delicate bone structure, was an expression of utter annoyance. Katherine ran through the door behind him, trying in vain to get him to stop, but the boy seemed determined.

"I told him to wait for you downstairs-" Katherine said, exasperated.

"It's ok, Katherine, I'll see to this." Hanne said, placing her soiled hands on her hips and turning back to the boy. Katherine stalked back into the house.

"What seems to be the matter?" Hanne asked, hoping he spoke German, as she spoke little Italian. The boy gave her a puzzled expression and then answered her in perfect German.

"I am Castiel Valten, emissary of Master Botticelli, here to serve your master, Alaric Dusek." He announced, with an air of pretentiousness which Hanne didn't much care for.

"I am Hannelore, your humble servant." she replied and it came out with a hint of sarcasm for she could not believe he had called Alaric her master.

"You're quite young to be the head maid, but Master Dusek does like to surround himself with beautiful things." Castiel said, smirking at the dirty-faced beauty in front of him.

Hanne was so angered by his rudeness, she slapped Castiel very lightly across his right cheek, leaving a sting of pain and a smudge of dirt from the garden.

"I am no servant, I am mistress of this house." Hanne instantly felt horrible for striking the misinformed lad. Even if she had been a servant, his vulgarity was most inappropriate.

Hanne felt even worse when she saw Castiel Valten's expression change from shock to sadness. All of his bravada had faded and what was left was a very devastated young man, very near tears, with dirt marring his perfect face.

"Master Dusek has taken a wife? No one informed me of this. Please forgive me Mistress, I did not know. I am very sorry." His voice held sadness that made Hanne's heart break.

"And I am sorry that I struck you. Are you alright?" 

Valten shook his head and said he was fine, save for embarrassed. Hanne had him come into the house where she washed her hands in the basin and then took a wet cloth to Castiel's face,gently wiping away the grime.

"We've both been foolish, shall we just forget about this and start over?" suggested Hanne.

"Please, I'm afraid Master Dusek would be very angry if he found out I'd caused you any trouble." Castiel replied, taking the cup of water Hanne poured for him.

"Then we shall never speak of it again. I am mostly at fault for not saying my last name and not having my head covered properly." Hanne said, smiling at the young man. She couldn't help but stare at him when he wasn't looking at her, she had never seen such a graceful man before. He was completely masculine in his manner though, strong and decisive in his movement.

"You have some dirt there, on your cheek." Castiel said, taking the cloth from the table to clean her. His slender fingers touched her face accidentally. She felt arousal at his nearness and touch when he let his fingers linger just a moment too long.

"Thank you." she said, clearing her throat. Then Castiel smiled knowingly at her, so she jumped up to get more water.

"I have canvases that need mounting immedietly, that's why I was in such a hurry." he said, absently watching her move around the room.

"My husband has set up easels for them on the fourth floor, in his studio, Katherine will show you to them. Alaric will return from Cologne within a week's time." her back was turned to him as she spoke.

Laughing, Castiel turned to go find the housekeeper, leaving Hanne to try to shake the blush from her pale cheeks.





Feast Of The Rose Garlands



"Hardly, Castiel's charm such that few could withstand it. It would've been somewhat of a favor actually. Had he taken your maidenhead, I might be inside you this very minute without your discomfort." Alaric tried again to seem facetious, but Hanne knew he was serious. 

"Would you like to inspect me? To be sure he hasn't deflowered me?" She took his hand and placed it between her bare legs.

"I must, to be sure." the Master breathed into her ear. His talented fingers found her vulva and he slid one of them inside her tight, wet passage, finding her hymen to be still very much intact. Hanne moaned, holding onto him tighter, her breasts crushed against his chest. Her need for him was so intense, she initiated a kiss, forcing his mouth open with her tongue. Alaric removed his fingers and lifted her, carrying her the few short steps to the bed while they continued to kiss. Once on the bed, Hanne brushed Alaric's hair aside to kiss down his neck. She pulled his low-cut chemise down, exposing one brown nipple and sucked it until a moan, nearly a growl, escaped his throat. Alaric pushed her down on the bed and moved over her and stripped of his shirt. She opened her thighs for his hips and he ground his pelvis into her teasingly. She felt his erection straining in his trousers.

"Have me, Alaric, I don't care how much it hurts, please." Hanne pleaded, breathless.

"I know of no other way. The apothecary knew of nothing, other than oils. Lubrication is not the problem. The problem is me."

"There is something else, you said it yourself. Would you really let Castiel act as your proxy?" she asked, knowing the idea had to be attractive to him, seeing the two people he loved with each other. Alaric sat up in bed, shocked at her question.

"Yes, I would. Are you so sure that he is smaller than I am, what if he is larger?" Alaric asked. It was a valid question. Hanne did not know that Castiel was smaller. Just because his stature was less than that of Alaric, didn't mean that his endowments were, she supposed. If Castiel had outdone her husband, perhaps she would give up on sex entirely and make her way back to the convent.

"Why dont you tell me what he is like, my love." Hannelore ran her bare foot suggestively across the small of Alaric's back. She had had enough of the careful dance the three of them were doing.

"What have you heard?" Alaric tried to seem indignant, but knew he had been discovered. He knew all along it was likely Hanne had been on the stairs. She was very light and able to walk about the vast house unheard most of the time.

"I was in the hall and heard everything."

"I would understand if you hate me." was his reply. Hanne thought he had probably rehearsed what he would say many times in his mind. 

"I love you." she said and went to her knees beside him, kissing his cheek and then his throat. He let her pull him into her loving embrace. 

"I would give you anything your heart desires, I love you so much." he told her.

"Then call out to Castiel." Hanne said.

"If you prefer, I could leave you alone with him." Alaric, always the gentleman, said.

"No, I want to see you with him. I want it all." 

"Very well, you shall have it all." then Alaric bellowed toward the ceiling. "Castiel, could you please come here."A moment later, Castiel appeared in the open doorway. He wore an amused but cautious expression. Having dressed in a hurry when he heard Alaric call, the boy wore only trousers, which were barely laced, revealing his chiseled abdomen and a scant line of light blonde hair leading from his navel and into his mystery. Hanne thought his body deserving of a sculptured marble tribute. There probably was one in Italy somewhere and she was just unaware of it.

"Is something the matter?" Castiel asked, inching closer to the bed. Hannelore was naked and she clearly held his full attention. Alaric thought it very interesting that Castiel had become so enchanted with Hanne, who was maybe the only person more fair than Castiel himself.

"Everything is fine." Hannelore said, giving him a smile much the same as the one he saw in Alaric's drawing. 

Castiel came to stand at the edge of the bed. Hanne looked to Alaric for his approval. He simply nodded to her and she leaned forward to slip Castiel's pants from his slim hips. She let her hands slide down his firm, fleshy ass and then drew them around the front of him. To her relief, the young apprentice's penis was about three inches shorter than her husband's and not nearly as girthy. Like the rest of Castiel, his cock was beautiful. Grasping him with her right hand, Hannlore found she could get nearly all of it into her mouth to suck.

Alaric, whose throbbing erection had not ceased, watched intently as his wife sucked the cock of his best friend and lover. Castiel may have been shocked at first, but he quickly became accustomed to Hanne's mouth pleasing him. He watched Hanne's brown eyes staring up at him as she slid his prick in and out of her mouth and occasionally glanced over at Alaric who had begun to rub himself through his breeches. 

"How can such a pretty mouth do such nefarious deeds?" Castiel gasped, he was smiling at Hanne and leaned in close to squeeze her breasts, then his hand went to work, stimulating her clit with his knuckle.

"You might ask yourself the same question, my friend." Alaric mused. His own impressive tool was now unobstructed and he was stroking it leisurely, his pants were gone. Castiel took the opportunity to have Hannelore lie back on the bed for him, so he could taste her luscious slit, something he felt inclined to do since the first moment he saw her. He gently moved her lips apart, then tongued her erect clit gently side to side. It was just a whisper of a touch,with only the tip of his tongue, but it was enough to bring shivers to her sensitive body. Alaric was soon beside her, suckling her blush colored nipples. Castiel's hand wandered across Hanne's body to caress Alaric's thigh and this small gesture sent Hanne over the edge. Her whole body seemed to quiver under Castiel's hands and she whimpered.

"Making you climax is so easy, I think I shall do it again and again." Castiel declared. He was kneeling between her open thighs, his hands resting on her bent knees.

"Come and make love to me, Castiel." Hanne said, taking his hand. He also looked to Alaric for approval.

"Make haste." Alaric replied, waving Castiel on.

Castiel wasted no time and positioned himself between her legs, rubbing the tip of his glans within her moist folds. Hanne was so ready for him she couldn't stand it when he taunted her by pressing the tip against her clitoris.

"Stop teasing, I need you." she said, breathing raggedly. Alaric could sympathize, he knew Castiel's teasing well enough.

Castiel kissed Hanne's mouth, deep and long to stop her protests. For all he knew, it could be the only time he was invited into their marriage bed and he wanted to savor Hannelore's body. His cock was flush with her entry and with one little push, he could be inside her. He licked each of her nipples seductively, where her husband's hot mouth had been moments earlier. 

Alaric bent to kiss her mouth again and Hanne pulled him down to lay beside her. Even as willful as Castiel was, he could no longer control himself and thrust into her without warning. All at once he pushed his entire length inside. His expression was a mixture of surprise and immense pleasure as he felt first, her impossible tightness and then the second stroke he made became slightly easier. Castiel, who had deflowered practically every servant girl his family ever hired(and some belonging to their neighbors and friends), knew exactly what had just happened. 

Hanne felt an uncomfortable pinch as Castiel penetrated her, but the pain was overshadowed by intense gratification and it subsided to a miniscule ache by the time he drove into her again. Hanne loved the way he filled her up, moving easily in and out of her sopping wetness. She found the pleasure was more when his thrusts were deep than when shallow. Alaric watched every expression on her face, relishing in her bliss as if it were his own.

Castiel was whispering to her, telling her how good she felt and how he hot she was making him. Castiel's hair was in disarray, falling into his eyes, Alaric took a moment to sweep some of it back behind the young man's ear. Castiel leaned across Hanne to kiss Alaric, their mouths meeting hungrily. Castiel never missed a beat with Hanne, plunging into her with even more insistence. He rotated his hips, seeming to know exactly where she wanted his cock to graze.

He moved her onto her side, so that she and Alaric were facing one another. Castiel held up her leg, his hand under her thigh and entered her from behind, finding her to be even more taut from that position, if it were possible. Alaric was kissing her again and her hand went to stroke his thick cock. Castiel was propped up on his elbow so that he had a view of Alaric and whatever Hanne was doing to him.

"I like watching you pleasure yourself." she said to Alaric who gladly obliged her by resuming the act.

"Mmm, he loves it when you watch him." Castiel purred. He pounded Hannelore enthusiasically. She was beginning to get sore, but she wanted to come and didn't care about the dull pain. She was close and thought Castiel might be too, he seemed more rigid than ever, slamming into her, drunk on his own need. Alaric recognized it too, the way Castiel bit his lower lip and closed his eyes when he was about to come. He brought Hanne first, with another powerful revolution of his hips and she climaxed with a rapturous moan. One last thrust and his hot offering flooded her loins. He groaned, burying his face in a pile of her soft hair.

"Alaric is still most hard." Hanne observed, cupping his testicles with her hand while he masturbated. "And Castiel is spent, whatever will we do?" she giggled. 

"Don't fret over Cas, he will be hard again momentarily." Alaric said with a smirk. 

"Until then." Hanne smiled and continued what she was doing, letting her hand go lower. Alaric moved onto his back and parted his legs so she could explore. Hanne caressed his pendulous balls and then stroked the area between them and his ass. Then, not being satisfied to merely touch, she repeated with her tongue, this time, she held his buttocks apart slightly, and licked his crack from beginning to end, pausing to insert her tongue. He went wild like she had never seen before, thrashing about and swearing in several languages, vocalizing his pleasure. She dug her tongue into him further, moving it in and out like he had done to her before. Alaric was pleading, begging Hanne to sit on his cock, but she knew she wasn't quite ready to take him on that day. 

Castiel was sitting up, watching the show with some amusement. It had been awhile since he saw Alaric so wanton and out of control. He watched as Hanne shamelessly rimmed her husband, who was jerking his large prick furiously. Castiel couldn't decide who he wanted more and didn't have to when Hannelore noticed his erection had returned and motioned for him to come to Alaric.

"Would you like to finish him?" Hanne inquired.

"It would be my pleasure."

Alaric moved onto his hands and knees after giving Hanne a quick kiss. She sat back against the headboard and watched as Castiel tongued and fingered Alaric's sexy ass. With two fingers, Castiel violated Alaric's snug rectum. The young master pushed his hips back to meet his apprentice's probing fingers.

"Have your way with me, I beg of you." Alaric cried. 

"There's no need to beg." Castiel replied, jabbing his wet cock easily into Alaric's anus. 

It had been too long since either felt this. Castiel wasn't gentle, he knew his master wanted it hard and fast, so he delved as deep as he could, until his balls slapped against Alaric's backside with every potent thrust. It burned, like vigorous love often does. Castiel reached around to fondle his lover's penis while he hammered into him. Alaric was so close to his peak, feeling every inch of Casitel's hardness sliding through him. It wasn't frequent in their relationship that Castiel sodomized his mentor, but on the rare occasion he did, Alaric was utterly rampant. When he could hold on no longer, he looked into his wife's eyes while Castiel filled his ass with scorching hot sperm and as his own orgasm tore through him. 





Feast of the Virgins



"Guess what they are wearing for a loincloth."

"Probably a stamp," I replied to my sister Shannon sarcastically. "From what I have heard about that fraternity, that should just about cover everything. None of them are Steeler fans, you know. That is one of the prerequisites for joining."

"They are wearing one hundred dollar bills as loincloths. They want the girls to wear nothing but terrible towels."

"Say what?" 

"Well Sarah, it's not like our terrible towels did us much good in the playoffs this season, now did they?" Shannon whined. Then she started to sob miserably, again. Shannon had been terribly depressed ever since the refs let the Jaguars hold their way to victory.

Shannon got up off her bed in the dorm room we shared and handed me the advertisement pertaining to the Valentine's Day party being sponsored by the newest fraternity on campus, I Felta Thi.

"I'd have to get a bigger terrible towel. The one I have now isn't going to cover both places. Why are they calling it Feast of the Virgins I wonder?"

"Oh, they didn't want to call it Feast of Lupercalia because they thought nobody but Italian majors would understand what that meant," Shannon responded.

"I know what the Feast of Lupercalia is, and I'm not an Italian major. Valentine's Day originated from the Feast of Lupercalia. Way back in the days of the Roman Empire, young men ran around the city in loincloths and struck young women along the way with whips. I can't remember what happened next, but I bet it was kinky."

"I'm not sure about the kinky, but those Romans did like their orgies," Shannon offered matter-of-factly. "I do know the celebration featured a lottery in which the names of girls were written on slips of paper and placed into a vase. The young men would draw a girl's name from the jar, making these two partners for the duration of the festival."

"Partners for what?"

"It says here on the flyer that girls who remove the one hundred dollar bills with their teeth get to keep them."

"Yeah, and what do you suppose they will want us to do then?"

"Sarah, it's not like we have dates or anything better to do."

"We don't have dates because we took the LUG pledge. You know—Lesbians Until Graduation, so that we can concentrate on our studies. By the way, I'll be getting an 'A' in Phonetics and Oral Expression."

"What's that class about, anyway?"

I explained to Shannon that it was a study of the phonetic structures of the French language with intensive exercises to improve pronunciation and aural comprehension, and that a major portion of the course is dedicated to preparing a public performance in French of a play, scenes from plays, poems, or songs.

"You know, I'm in the mood for some oral expression at this very moment, Sarah. Is cunnilingus sex? Or fellatio?"

"Not according to one of our presidents. If you can't trust a president, who can you trust?"

"Good point. I just wanted to make sure we are not violating our vow not to engage in sexual intercourse. Are we virgins?"

"We are born again virgins, ever since we went up on that altar call at church. So Shannon, do you want to express yourself to me orally first, or vice-versa?"

Shannon didn't wait for an answer. She kissed me softly and sweetly. "You know, kissing you is like kissing myself since we look so much alike."

"Shannon, I have red hair. You have blonde hair. I'm three inches taller than you." I slipped her T-shirt over her head, and she did the same to me. No bras. "And who has bigger boobs?"

We slipped off our jeans and panties. Shannon played with my hair, running her fingers through it over and over. "Your hair is so beautiful," she complimented, which I had heard many times before. "I wish I had red hair like yours. It matches so perfectly down there." She began to play in that hair too.

Shannon's lips descended downward on my body. First my nipples and then my belly button. I pushed her away. "You're tickling me!" She moved lower and kissed and nibbled the inside of my thighs. I pushed her head closer to my pussy. "Do me, Shannon. Do me. Eat me. Please eat me!" I begged.

"Oh, aren't we just the eager one?" she joked. "On the bed with you, then."

"Do me quick and nasty, Shannon. I'm already warmed up."

Shannon ran her tongue between my inner and outer labia on one side, as she held the two together with her lips. She did the other side. Then she fucked my pussy with her tongue. She spread my outer lips with her hands and with her tongue pointed and stiff, she gently flicked here and there, occasionally giving my clit a quick little suck and letting it go.

"Ohhhh . . . oh yeah . . . oh fuck . . . oh yeah . . ." I began to moan over and over as my clit throbbed in her mouth. She rolled her tongue into a tube around the shaft of my clit and slid it up and down, making her tongue like a little pussy for my clit to fuck. I was right on the edge. My legs shuddered. Then I lost it, squeezing my thighs against the sides of her face as I screamed, "Oh my fucking God!" repeatedly. But Shannon didn't stop. No, she made me cum twice more.

"There is nothing like having your beautiful sister cum in your mouth," Shannon cooed. "It just makes you feel so good."

"Well now, then I'd like my beautiful sister to cum in my mouth." With that, I returned the favor, or should I say favors.

Afterwards, we talked it over and decided that the frat party didn't sound all that appealing, and that we would spend quality time with each other for Valentine's Day and maybe include a couple of our girlfriends. 

* * *

"I want to jam my dick down the throat of that stuck-up snotty redhead who sits in the front row in my Phonetics and Oral Expression class. She wears those little miniskirts for the professor's benefit. She sure won't give me the time of day."

Ross Coldfinger, the president of I Felta Thi, continued to complain to his fraternity brothers who had gathered around him about the girl who had starred in his masturbation fantasies since the beginning of the semester.

"You'll never get that hottie to suck your dick!" one of the frat rats, Shaun, insisted defiantly. "But I'll drain your hose," he offered, as he squeezed Ross' buns playfully.

"Hey, I won the cum drinking contest!" another frat rat, Kris, complained. "If anybody blows Ross, it should be me!"

"Now, now, settle down boys," Ross ordered. "I'm getting a little bored with dudes going down on me. I want that redhead cunt to peel my banana. I have a plan!"

"What's your plan?" Shaun questioned. "She's not coming to our Feast of the Virgins. I heard her say so to some of the other girls in the cafeteria."

"I have observed that she stays in the classroom after Phonetics and Oral Expression," Ross replied, "even after the professor leaves. All by herself. We'll have our Feast of the Virgins. Bet me. She'll be feasting on my one-eyed wonder worm. And after she blows me, maybe I'll let you dudes cum on her face and those bodacious tatas."

"Yes!" all the frat rats exclaimed gleefully in unison.

* * *

"What do you dudes want?" I asked as they entered the classroom. "I'm studying—don't bother me."

"We hear that you are not coming to our Feast of the Virgins," Ross replied belligerently. 

"Yeah, so? I have other plans. My sister and I and a couple other girls are going to Burger King to celebrate Valentine's Day for all the Whoppers you can eat. Coupons, we have coupons."

"You'll get all the whoppers you can eat, bitch!" Ross yelled.

Ross dropped his pants. No underwear.

"If I were you, I'd be really embarrassed to be showing off that little thing," I snapped. "Now put your wee willie back in your pants and get out of here before you get in big trouble."

"I don't think so, bitch. Not until you give me a hummer. I bet you blow every dude at a frat shindig for a few glasses of foamy beer."

He moved closer and stuck his dick in my face. The other frat rats dropped their pants, eager looks on their faces.

"What the hell is going on here?" a voice roared. They hadn't heard the door open. There he stood—Dr. Alex Todd, our Phonetics and Oral Expression professor.

"These idiots want me to . . . uh . . . perform fellatio on them. As if!"

"Sarah, do you want to press charges?" the professor asked, glaring at the culprits. "I'll call security."

"No, I don't think so. As long as they never bother me again."

Quickly the frat rats pulled up their pants and ran out the door.

I told Dr. Todd what exactly had happened.

"Well, I'll tell you this, Sarah, I'm going to cancel their Feast of the Virgins. What are you doing for Valentine's Day, anyway?"

"I'm doing Burger King with my sister and girlfriends."

"Burger King? No, no, my dear, you simply must come to my place for dinner. We can have our own little feast."

I contemplated that for a bit. I had heard that Dr. Todd was a wonderful cook, and I knew he had been a guest chef on one of those culinary TV shows. "I don't know, I promised my sister . . ."

"I'm preparing salmon roulade, stuffed with lobster, crab, and morels, baked in puff pastry and served with a wild mushroom and cognac cream sauce. On the side, some caramelized pearl onions and baby carrots with baby zucchini and fresh dill tossed in at the end."

I think I began to drool. "Yeah, okay, I guess."

"Great! But I would like you to do me one very special favor."

"Oh, what's that?"

"Would you please wear panties?"

"Oh my God! I didn't think you could see that far up my skirt when I sit in the front row." I know my face turned five shades of red. I jumped up. "I have to run off to an appointment. I'm so embarrassed!"

"Don't be, Sarah. Now you're still coming to dinner? It wouldn't be right if you stood me up after you said yes."

"Yes, I did say I would. I'll be there." I hurried off. 

* * * I dressed for dinner in a Planet Funk pleated sleeveless satin top with a ribbon belt and a Chanpaul brocade skirt with tulle. I wore my suede ballet shoes, not wanting to look any taller than him than I had to.

Dr. Todd watched me pull into his driveway from the window and greeted me at the door. He wore a tuxedo.

"You are extraordinarily beautiful, my dear." He handed me the white, pink, and yellow roses arranged with some babies' breath in an antique-looking vase.

"Thank you, Dr. Todd."

"Please call me Toddy. All my friends call me Toddy."

Dr. Todd had a lovely home. The pink frilly lace curtains made the place look a bit feminine, but all the Steelers decorations on the walls counteracted that. He led me to the dining room where he had placed dinner on the table in covered dishes. He pulled out my chair, I sat, and he served me. In addition to what he had promised me for dinner, there was a trio of crepes: chicken and fresh peaches with a veloute sauce, escargot with lots of garlic and butter, and shrimp with fresh ginger and scallion and a ginger hollandaise.

I ate and ate and ate. Dr. Todd just mostly watched me, not saying much, and toyed with the food on his plate.

"This is just incredibly delicious, Toddy!"

"Sarah?"

"Yes, Toddy?"

"Did you wear panties?"

"Yes, I did." I'm sure I blushed, not as bad as before, but I could feel the flush.

"Would you take them off, please?"

"Say what?"

"I want to wear them."

"Huh?"

Dr. Todd started to cry. "Oh Sarah, I have this incredible panty fetish," he sobbed miserably. "I just can't help it."

I gobbled down the shrimp, finishing it. "Do you have any more shrimp?"

He went into the kitchen and quickly returned. "Try these coconut shrimp. I made them last night."

"My goodness they're big!" I dipped one into the sweet sauce and swallowed it quickly. "So tell me about your obsession, Toddy. You can talk to me."

"I like to wear girl's panties. On my head mostly. I like to sniff them. I like to lick them." He started to wail like a wounded banshee.

I ran over and put my arm around him. "Toddy, Toddy, it's okay." I took a handful of the coconut shrimp and munched them while I consoled him. "Everybody has something they obsess over. Why, look at me and food."

"I have something special for you, Sarah." He perked up.

"You do?"

"Yes, my lovely one." He got up from the table and went into the kitchen again. Two minutes later he came back with his arms full. "Do you like banana Bundt cake?"

"Yes!"

"How about rose geranium pound cake?"

"Yes!"

"And then we have chocolate mousse cake. Ten quarter-inch layers of light, not too sweet chocolate cake separated by quarter-inch layers of mousse made with Michel Cluizel Chocolat Grand Amer. Frosted, of course, with more mousse. Puree some raspberries and guava, set with a little gelatin, and onto the mousse in a swirl design, and then top if off with chocolate shavings."

"Oh God, my panties are getting wet!"

"Here." He placed the three cakes before me, and watched me enthusiastically devour the dessert.

"Fantastic, just fantastic," I complimented. "I'm stuffed. Can I take the rest home?"

"Perhaps. So please tell me about your panties, Sarah. White, I bet."

"How did you know? Fruit of the Loom Fit for Me. Bikini as opposed to brief or hi-cut."

"Do you have any Hipster Body by Victoria seamless stretch panties? Perhaps in teal, muslim or glacial blue?"

"Uh . . . no."

"I'll buy you some. My treat."

"I have plenty of panties. If you want to buy me something, get me some groceries. And come over to my dorm and cook them."

"Please don't be angry with me for saying this, but I would like to watch you masturbate in your panties. Then I want to keep them."

"You got to be kidding!"

"No, I'm not kidding. I am obsessed, like I said. I'm such a pervert. I can't help it! I'm addicted to panties."

I couldn't stand his whining. "Well, I guess it wouldn't be fair if I ate and ran."

"One more thing . . ."

"What?"

"I want you to use a cucumber and a squash." He produced the vegetables—a really big cucumber and a much smaller yellow squash.

"Don't you have zucchini?" I inquired, a little self-conscious. "That cucumber is quite the big fella."

"The cucumber is for your . . . pussy and . . . uh . . . I'd like you to stick the squash up your cute little bum."

I laughed. "Oh, I doubt my bum is that little after all I ate. There are going to be several conditions if I do what you want, Toddy. That's all I'm going to do—masturbate. Don't be asking for sex. One more thing. I want you to come to my dorm on Monday and prepare dinner for all the girls."

I knew what that would get me. Emily would be doing my laundry, and I'd be driving Jessica's BMW. Amanda would lend me her $650 Hollywood faux-croc over-the-knee flat boots and designer dresses. And on and on and on. The other girls were just as disgusted with the cafeteria food as me. 

"Uh . . . I won't ask for sex, Sarah, but do you mind if I masturbate while I watch you? And I'd just love to cook dinner for you and your friends on Monday night."

"Toddy, if you insist on masturbating, then you have to come over and cook on Tuesday night also."

"No problem! Can I see your breasts?"

"I suppose," I muttered, lowering the straps on my satin top. No bra.

"Oh my God!"

"What?"

"They are . . . exquisite!"

"Thank you. I rather like them myself." I began to tease my nipples. "Let's see, now how am I going to do this I wonder? Shall we go into the living room? I noticed you have a recliner."

I sat in the recliner and adjusted it to the right position. I lifted my skirt. Toddy pulled up a foot stool so he could get a good view. I slipped down the panties a bit.

"I love that little patch of red hair!"

"Thank you, Toddy. I keep it neatly trimmed. I mean, I wouldn't want you to get a face full of bush when you eat me."

"Huh?"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." I giggled. "I said no sex. All you get to do is watch and jerk off."

"I'm satisfied with that." He pulled out his cock and began to stroke it.

"You have a really pretty penis." Finally I found something to compliment him about other than his cooking.

"Thank you. I wish I could put it inside you instead of the cucumber."

"No way. Cucumbers don't get you knocked up."

I spread my legs. His eyes looked like they might bulge right out of his head. I placed my thumb and forefinger around my clit and rolled it gently between my fingers. Rolling, rolling, rolling. Putting on this little show for Toddy was beginning to turn me on. That and my fingers.

"Is that good for you, Sarah?" Toddy asked, somewhat shakily, as he stroked himself harder and faster.

I shook my head and winked as I pulled my pussy lips back with my left hand so that my clit was totally exposed and used the index finger of my right hand to tap on it softly. When I got real juicy I picked up the cucumber and the squash. I wet the middle finger of my left hand with pussy juice and inserted it in my back door. Then I replaced my finger with the squash. The cucumber went in my pussy. I rubbed it against my already swollen clit. 

"Oh baby, fuck me, fuck me!" I cried as I fantasized. I closed my eyes, imagining my lover's big cock filling me up. "Fuck me, baby, fuck me!" The cucumber did, until I climaxed with the big pickle-to-be rammed all the way up inside me. After catching my breath, I removed the cucumber and squash and handed them to Toddy. "Here's your veggies back. I hope they had fun."

"Yes, I'm sure they did. Don't they look happy? Why, they're smiling."

"I slipped the panties off and gave them to him. "A little damp." Actually, they were soaked.

Toddy put the panties on his head, took a bite out of the cucumber, and choked his chicken even more frantically. "I wonder how much flavor the squash will lose if I cook it?" he inquired, looking quite serious.

I straightened myself up. "I have to go now, Toddy. It looks like you'll be amusing yourself for awhile, anyway."

"Thanks for coming, Sarah!" he called out as I left.

"My pleasure!" I called back.

* * *

I got back to the dorm and the room I shared with Shannon. She bombarded me with questions about dinner with Dr. Todd. Of course I had to tell her the whole story.

"What a pervert he is!" she exclaimed, giggly. "Do you think you can get him to come over to the dorm and cook dinner for us all?"

"Every night. Until the panties run out."

"We can always buy more."

"Shannon, I feel real guilty."

"Well, you should, Sarah. I had a Whopper at Burger King for Valentine's Day. Okay, so I actually had four, and they were Double Whoppers. While you dined on salmon roulade and coconut shrimp. Not to mention the cakes."

"No, not about that. We didn't get Daddy anything for Valentine's Day. Not even a card. And he's so lonely since Mom died."

"Hey let's go over to the house and see him. We can get there in an hour."

"He'll be sleeping."

"So we'll wake him up!"

* * *

On the way Shannon and I discussed what we should give Daddy for Valentine's Day. We didn't have much money, and we wanted to give him something he would remember always.

"Now be quiet!" I demanded as we crept up the stairs to our father's bedroom.

He snored, lying there on his back.

"Oh my, he's naked," Shannon whispered.

"That makes our job all the easier."

"Wow, he has a big penis, and it's not even hard."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that, Shannon. I'll take care of the deepthroating. But you're going to swallow too. I think we should get naked, like him."

I took my father's flaccid penis in my mouth. Shannon nibbled gently on his balls. He didn't stay soft long.

"Ohhhh . . . ohhhh," he began to moan as his manhood stiffened. He opened his eyes. "Wha . . . the . . ."

"Now you be quiet, Daddy," I admonished. "Shannon and I have a special surprise for you for Valentine's Day." I put his cock back in my mouth. 




Feast of the Virgins



"You are so big, Daddy!" Shannon squealed as I licked his cock from the base to the tip, like a lollipop. "Would you like a blowjob, Daddy? Would you like to cum all over our faces and tits?"

"Well, I guess that would sure beat jerking off. I have a secret to tell you girls. After your mother died, I named my right hand Sarah and my left hand Shannon."

We both giggled. "Shame on you, Daddy!" Shannon blurted. "Hey Sarah, give me a turn, will ya?"

Shannon cupped his balls with her left hand as she concentrated on his cock with her right hand and mouth. In and out slowly at first and then gradually faster. He started to groan and pulled her head down on him, wanting to get all of it down her throat. 

"Ohhhh . . . Shannon . . . oh yeah . . . don't stop . . . please don't stop. Your lips on my cock feels s-o-o-o-o good. Suck me, pretty baby!" 

I pulled her greedy mouth off him. "Let me show you how it's done, Shannon," I insisted as I took over.

"Suck me . . . ohhhh Sarah . . . suck me . . . ohhhh . . . ahhhh . . ."

I paused momentarily. "Okay Daddy, fuck my mouth. Bend your knees slightly and thrust as I go all the way down on you."

"Please don't use that word, Sarah."

"Whatever, Daddy, but do what I said. Give me a pearl necklace."

My hands went behind him and played with his butt. I pushed my fingers gently in and out of his hole as I pushed my nose against his pubic hair, making all of his cock disappear. All the way in and all the way out, over and over as Shannon licked his shaft while I deepthroated him.

"Ohhhh God . . . I . . . I'm . . . ahhhh . . . oh yeah . . . ohhhh yeah . . ."

I never gagged once as my father's body quivered uncontrollably, and he spasmodically shot a huge load down my throat. I pulled him out and held the tip of his cock on Shannon's tongue as he continued to spurt. She licked up as much cum as she could.

"Did you like your Valentine's Day present, Daddy?" I asked as Shannon held his cock in her mouth as he wound down.

"I loved it, girls! I love you both so much!"

"We'll have a Valentine's Day party every year, Daddy. Well, until you get married again. We'll call it the Feast of the Virgins. Guess what we'll be feasting on. You!"

"Are you two virgins?" Daddy asked as we cuddled on the bed with him.

"Sure we are, Daddy!"

"You girls are a little old to be virgins. But then, you both learned to ride a bike at a late age. Do you think we can cure your virginity?" His penis had become erect once more. 

"Well Daddy, your birthday is next month," I cooed, as I pushed Shannon's head down on his cock again.



Feast or Famine?



Stephanos, resplendent in unrelieved black except for his blood red silk cravat gazed pityingly down at the young girl bowed over the fresh gravesite. Her bitter and copious tears only served to feed his growing hunger. His violet eyes glowed in the gathering gloom as he searched for the right emphasis on which to continue his pursuit. Having grown bored with the usual hurried feeding frenzies of his youth, he had a deep-seated yearning to replenish himself with this tortured beauty. Her wrenching wails excited the blood coursing through his veins. Stephanos hesitated no longer, stepping out of the shadows. 

Marianna was beside herself in her grief. Her arms wrapped around her middle, mourning Dmitri. The townspeople of Dubrovnik leaving her to her own devices. Unforgiving in their condemnation of her, for what they perceived her role had been in Dmitri's death. Marianna and Dmitri had had such plans. They were to have been married in the chapel of their village, Dmitri insisting that being a soldier was a credible way to earn the necessary money to set up their household. With his death, their dreams had died. His family unrelenting in their hatred, for they had never approved of her. Marianna was in such despair, she considered ending her life. Then she could be linked forever to Dmitri. Sensing a presence behind her, she raised her tear-drenched emerald eyes framed by her black mourning veil to the man hovering quietly. 

'Please leave me to my grief. I have nothing to offer you.' She whispered hoarsely. Her gaze however had connected with his hypnotic stare and she could not look away. 

'Forgive my intrusion' his spellbinding voice breaking over her, 'I had thought to offer you comfort. I meant no disrespect.'

'Leave me Sir. I would be alone to mourn him.' Her voice was adamant despite the tiny frissons created by those eyes and voice. Marianna lowered her gaze then, refocusing on the mound of dirt in front of her. 

Stephanos was incensed. No one, no one dared be so dismissive of him. This churlish girl! Her impudence will cost her he vowed silently. He felt his fangs start to protrude, but now was not the time. His blood boiling with more than lust. He was in a very fine, very rare temper. With a calculating last look at her bent head, he retreated momentarily to gather his thoughts. He merged with the shadows once more to await a more fitting time to return to her side. 

*****

Marianna shivering with the cooling shadows swirling around her slowly gathered her body up. She dropped the single white rose that had been grasped in her hand to the ground atop where Dmitri would be, swallowed for eternity. The last one to love her, her parents surrendering last year to the fever that had swept through and decimated her village. She walked towards her childhood home, her steps heavy, her gait slow. She unlocked the front door and headed for the stairs to her bedroom, no appetite apparent. She had been unable to eat these three days past when Dmitri's body had arrived to be buried. Marianna undressed with the same lackluster movements, her pain-filled eyes closing in relief. Her ordeals momentarily over as she slid into dreamless sleep, all her energies had been spent in seeing a proper burial for Dmitri. 

Stephanos had followed her easily, ever watchful. Detecting no other presence in the house, he had waited for her to snuff out the candle and then limberly climbed the trellis adjacent to her balcony. Stephanos moved stealthily across the floor, gliding effortlessly over to the bed where she lay restlessly moving under the covers, moaning softly. Moonlight streaming brilliantly inside, through the opened balcony doors to stream across the bed. His lips parted in an unholy grin, watching her chest rise and fall, the ribbons of her nightgown had unlaced to the point where they rested over the top part of her chest. A tiny gold crucifix circling her neck, her raven hair spread across the pillow. Reaching out one long bony finger, he hooked his nail under the lacy edge and moved it lower. His eyes gleaming in appreciation at the milky unmarred flesh exposed, the succulent deep red nipple jutting prominently in the cool night air. 

He inhaled the scent of lavender wafting from her skin, his cock showing a flicker of interest then extinguishing. Stephanos, aware that to fully be aroused, he must take some of her blood and mix it with his own. He leaned in and pressed his lips on the swell, just above the areola. Blowing gently, he watched that nipple crown even further. Dark passions exploded in his mind, possibilities vying with each other for dominance. As these streamed through at a frightening pace, Marianna mumbled 'Dmitri.' One word. Stephanos avowed that he would erase her memory of Dmitri this evening with all of his being. He never broke promises to himself. 

*****

Stephanos stripped himself of the trappings of humanity, thoughtfully and carefully folding his belongings. He strode back to the bed and positioned himself on top of Marianna's thighs, jolting forward to sink his fangs into her breast. Marianna woke with a startled gasp, watching that dark head touching her where no man had touched her before. When she moved her hands grasping his hair to push him away, Stephanos raised his compelling eyes and stayed her without speech. Enticed beyond her comprehension at the magnificence of his forceful gaze, she was caught like a fly in a spider's web. Stephanos' eyes were eddying vortexes of passion, flaming with unrepentant need. 

'Who are you? What do you want with me?' Marianna cried softly. 'Let me go! Get out of my house! I will scream!' All the while, her racing thoughts mocking her with the knowledge that the villagers would not lift a finger. 

'I am Stephanos' he intoned, casually lapping at his dripping fangs with his tongue. 'And I am here because your beauty and innocence called to me. I know your thoughts before you do and before this night is over, you will know the passion that I have for you. Make no mistake, from here forward; you will be mine to do with as I wish. Please me, and it will be easier for you to gain acceptance.' Stephanos deliberately chose that word, knowing that Marianna sought to belong. 

Marianna slowly expelled her breath. She had watched him move his mouth, had seen him taste her blood. She knew now that he was a vampire. Curiously enough she did not fear him, nor was she repulsed by his actions. She wondered briefly if he had placed a spell on her, then decided it was of no consequence. He had already started the process of dining and she knew all was lost. Denigrating herself over her earlier lapse in judgment in thinking to end her life, she now knew she wished to live. Her lethargy dissipated and she fought him like a wildcat. They raged in battle as she knew her beloved Dmitri must have fought to stay alive. Alas, unevenly matched and quickly overpowered, Marianna resorted to one last desperate act. With Stephanos firmly entrenched over her thighs, his knees holding her in place and his hands holding her arms down as they extended over her head, she reeled back and then thrust up in an attempt to bite him, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. Stephanos smiled for Marianna had unwittingly bound herself even more tightly to him. Instead of freeing herself, she was his unequivocally with that small exchange of blood. 

'Ah, my feisty beauty you forever belong to me' he purred. 'I am your master from this day forward.'

Stephanos sunk his fangs into her unblemished breast and drew greedily from her there. A bead of rich blood pooling to run down the slope into the valley between her breasts. Swiftly moving along her body he randomly nipped her further in his explorations. No thoughts of gently initiating her were present; he was captivated by her spirit and her liveliness. Kicking the coverlet backwards with his foot, he nudged her gown up over her waist, feasting for a moment on what he uncovered. Those silken thighs were waiting there for him. Marianna's body shook with needs she didn't understand. She writhed under his masterful touch, squirming heedlessly, her mind drowning with sensations. Nerve endings tingling repeatedly over her entire length, anticipating, feverishly giving consent. 

When Stephanos plunged his fangs into her thigh, her upper body rose upright unbidden and grasping his hair this time, pulled him more tautly over that fair skin. Her skin so heated, his body still cold was a welcome relief. Drinking his fill, Stephanos sealed that wound with a lap of his tongue. He could start to feel the blood surging to his cock, growing heavy. It had been a long time, too long since he pierced a woman's flesh with his member. He had chosen this woman with exquisite care. Acutely attuned to those experiencing grief, he had sought her out, far from his own normal hunting grounds. Having lived for over five centuries, he could count on one elegant hand the number of times he had mated. 

Aware that Marianna was untouched, he guided her hand to his swollen cock and encouraged her to clasp it. She experimented for a few minutes, running her hands over him, learning his shape, texture and strength. Emboldened by his pent up breath releasing in a harsh manner, she grasped him more firmly, stroking his cock harder and faster. Seeking his eyes for approval, knowing she was pleasing him by the dilation evident. Her untutored hands found a natural rhythm and she applied pressure at different points. 

Patiently, almost tenderly, silently Stephanos allowed her this freedom. Knowledge that she was his for eternity had him wanting to teach her. With desire kindled, his patience was soon spent. His fingers explored her moist opening, testing her readiness. He teased her lips, running his fingers through her curls, tugging at them, feeling her heat. Marianna moved under his hand seeking answers to these strange feelings aching through her body in unfamiliar places. Embarrassed by the wetness she sought his eyes yet again with her unspoken question. 

'Marianna this is desire. This is your body preparing itself for my pleasure and what will be your pleasure.' 

Marianna should not have been surprised that he knew her name. It became increasingly apparent that he knew everything. Stephanos' eyes flared reading her thoughts. She was ready and willing and unfilled. Before he fucked her, he was going to taste her. No longer immune to her charms, no longer angry, he was still ravenously hungry to sate those burning passions. Moving further down her body, he placed his lips and tongue over her pussy. He thrust his tongue inside, feeling her tremor beneath and around his touch. He moved his tongue in and out of her, building that pressure still, Marianna's hips pumping and thrusting naturally to meet his. Mindlessly she matched his passions. Just when she was on the brink, he pulled back to plunge one fang into her clit. She gasped falling over that brink and spilled her juices onto his waiting tongue. 

He drank deeply, just as he had earlier against her thigh. Stephanos rejoiced, feeling her cum over his tongue, juices running down his throat charged his erection further. This was as out of control as he allowed himself to be. Dominating and pleasuring Marianna was thrilling him to no end. He watched the last of her orgasm and then glanced at her face. She glowed in the moonlight rampant desire lingering in her eyes. 

*****

Marianna was beside herself, still uncomprehending what had happened. Her whole body alive and tingling and she had Stephanos to thank for that. Finding a confidence in herself that was previously unknown, she boldly scooted down the bed to his mouth. She captured his lips, biting and nipping at them playfully, silently imploring him to continue. She wrapped her long legs around his waist and cradled him against her center. He still had a touch of coldness to him, but less so than before. He felt good, he felt right nestled between her thighs. She wiggled her hips a bit, her passions far from spent. Stephanos was amused by her blatant inexperienced attempts at ravishment, a more than willing participant. 

Being amused however did not mean he was going to indulge this any further. He moved his hand to his cock and seated himself fully inside her warmth, easily breaking and surpassing her hymen. She demurred without signs of a struggle, causing Stephanos to wildly and blatantly move uninhibitedly. He had not been intimate with a virginal woman who had so willingly invited him to fuck her without protest. Her earlier mutiny forgotten in his quest to make her his, she was now in total submission. While he stroked his cock in her pussy, he also stroked her clit, feeling the raised welt left by his fang. More ardent than ever, each stroke raising his body temperature, his movements unrestricted. Bracing one elbow at her side, he reached down to capture a nipple, feeling it pebble. Whereas before he had limited feelings, his mind exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors. This coupling surpassed his expectations. Marianna's body was tightening around him, gripping him as no other had before. Her moans were increasing, her breathing reduced to panting. Slick with her juice, Stephanos felt himself expanding even more and knew he was close to cumming. With one final thrust, he sent them both over the edge. Keening wails of passion were mingled together. Stephanos pumped himself endlessly into Marianna, the closest feeling to being alive he had experienced since his crossover. 

He gathered her close and working his way up her body, polishing off that droplet nestled between her breasts before continuing to her mouth. He ground his mouth against her forcefully for a moment before gentling the kiss. Careful to leave his cock where it was. Their initial mating complete, still left him craving more. For the time being, he was content to caress her and drowse in her arms. Having slept the sleep of the undead for over four and a half centuries, he found himself curiously spent in a different way. Marianna embraced him to her, holding as close as she could for dear life. While just as tired and spent, she was energized by her coupling with Stephanos. Just before drifting off herself her last thought being that her vampire was worth keeping.