Sacrifice To Lust
Her lust consumes him - are you next?
Sacrifice To Lust was first published in Redemption Magazine on Medium. You can also read a version illustrated with some very erotic photographs on Secret Obsessions (enter your free subscriber password).
He picked up the notebook and, blowing the dust off the cover, turned the yellowing pages and read.
January 10th 1857
The first thing I noticed on entering the room was the smell. A heavy perfume tinged with the scent of almonds seems to waft around me. As my eyes became accustomed to the gloom I could see the figure of a girl laying prostrate on a low altar. She appeared to be naked apart from a black lace shawl that covered a little of her modesty.
Alarmed that she might be injured or even worse, on the point of death I stepped forward. As I did so she stirred and sat up.
“Have you come to rescue me?” Her voice, deep and husky flowed around me like smoke.
She leant forward, her body flowing off the altar on which she had lain like a cat slinking toward its prey. The shawl slipped from her for a moment and I could not avert my eyes from the scene before me.
She was indeed beautiful. Her skin was the colour of fine porcelain, so white that she appeared almost ghostly. Small breasts and slim when compared to the voluptuous nudes painted by the old masters which, to this date, were the only women I had seen completely naked.
She grasped the flimsy material and draped it around her body again, seemingly unconcerned that it hid very little as she pouted at me.
“You are young.” It was said almost as a question. “I have lain here for years waiting for one such as you.”
I felt my rod harden.
“Come,” she stretched out her arm to me. “Your seed will breathe new life into me.”
All my senses told me to run, but my feet seemed to have lost the power of movement under the gaze of this beautiful creature.
Moving like a spider she crawled toward me and then she pounced. Her fingers tore the clothes from my body. This was no sensual undressing, my shirt was ripped open and my trousers and undergarments torn away.
Her eyes fixed on my phallus. Fear swept through me but my wretched organ remained erect, harder than I have ever known it. I could feel it pulsing, full, as if it would spurt forth at the merest touch.
She lunged forward and enveloped it in her mouth. Still unable to move I thought for one sickening moment that she sought to bite at it, but I felt no teeth, only her lips encasing the shaft and suckling at me, milking me.
My issue poured forth and she swallowed it greedily.
I cried out at the exquisite sensations that pulsed through me before she rose up and pulled away from me, her lips moving as if savouring the taste. She spread her arms exposing her complete nakedness to me the shawl flowed out behind her like two devilish black wings.
I glanced down. Despite my emission, my rod was still hard as iron. I seemed to have no power to do anything but follow its lead.
On looking up I saw she had let the shawl drop again and spread her legs exposing her luscious quim to my gaze. She lay back, naked, legs spread, her womanhood, if indeed she was a woman, opening like a deadly carnivorous flower. The velvet folds gleamed and emitted a powerful musk that dragged me inexorably toward it.
I wanted nothing more than to plunge deep into those folds, to feel her flesh enveloping mine, to become one with her.
As my shaft entered her I felt myself lost to the world. My whole being centred on the consummate pleasure that seemed to flow from her. I felt my seed rising again and this time it seemed to pour into her in an everlasting stream. Just as I was at the point where I felt my very lifeblood would be sucked from me she slowed and then stopped, her fingers caressing my back.
I was lost, content to stay within her embrace for eternity, to feed her and to be her acolyte. My only release is this journal which I have compiled in the short time she has allowed me to regain my strength before she feeds on me again. If you are reading this I am long since dead so beware, you are now in her domain.
I beg you, if you value your very soul, please, do not look behind you…
A nice entry in your cast of hellish harlots and dishy demons right here! I still have to check out the brand new Goldilocks entries, and since I commented on the originals (when Sophie was still a human and just stumbled into the cabin), I'm eager to see where you've taken that franchise. But since you've offered a brief, stand-alone infernal sex-horror piece, I figured I'd stop by and check it out.
Very enjoyable and well-done, Simone. I really like the Victorian period-piece verbal patina to this one. I can see this guy--a typical, uptight Victorian male, being burned to the ground by this irresistible siren. You've managed to capture his apprehensiveness about the whole thing too--he really can't believe his luck, but convention and "propriety" demands that he can't let on that he is--he comes off as passionate as a block of ice. That's what the whole Victorian repression thing was all about anyway, until D.H. Lawrence blew the lid off the whole hypocritical nonsense--and nearly got burned at the stake for it!
Great little stand-alone bit of period erotic horror. Kind of like a brief, verbal version of a Hammer Horror flick!
Short, powerful, leaves enough gaps to stimulate the imagination - loved this piece