Here is a little something I wrote. Not my first Erotica, but I’m not very good at it so be warned. It’s also very adult in nature and should be read only if you like this kind of stuff. Very explicit, etc.
Demons and Lovers
She could only stand still with a growing sense of dread. The storm outside was like her dread, growing, but in a violent way. Her travels had brought her this far with no incident, but now it was all about to change. The only thing remotely close to take shelter in was a house on the hill. An old home, more the size of a castle. She debated whether to go to it or not, but a strike of lightning close enough for her to feel the heat roll off of changed her mind. The wetness of the storm was almost to her bones, or at least it felt that way. Things could always be worse, she told herself, but it wasn’t working and before she knew it her feet were carrying her towards the building that held the unknown.
What had become of her mount, more than that though, her friend. She had raised him from a colt and considered him closer than any person. But alas he was run off into the darkness when a former bolt of light caused a clasp of thunder so loud that it had stunned her and frightened him. Now she was alone in the night, scared, wet, and lost. The foreboding shadow on the hill she was now heading for was the only thing that made sense, good or bad.
The road, no trail that led up to the building was not either in the rain. It was more of a trail of mud and debris. The area around the place must not have been in good condition, as weeds, small rocks, and anything else that the slew of water could carry into the formerly matted down path was there, to include larger insects and spiders. Several of which tried to grasp on to her lower extremities.
She had been foolish the prior morning. Many of those at the Inn who were local had said it was going to rain, she had not listened and opted for a shorter dress to make her riding through the countryside more tolerable in the heat. But she did put on longer stockings, which were now acting as something easy for the bugs to latch onto and try and make their way up her legs and onto her thighs. She swatted at them as she made her way up the small creek, the former path.
Just as she thought she had gotten the last of them she felt her foot slip. Then her face was wet. She had fallen into the makeshift stream and was more soaked than before. She stood carefully, not wanting to go down again in the mud, which also made walking more difficult. It was so slippery now. She looed down at herself and saw that her summer dress was clinging to every part of her and anyone from a distance would think she was out in this weather naked in just a cloak.
Normally, she would have been embarrassed, but she was now colder and more miserable than before and continued towards the home or whatever it was. She finally made it to the front, which had a covering. A moment of respite from the rain was welcome, but the cold was still with her. A gust of wind blew fast and low between her legs. It was so precise and quick that it made her quiver and shake for a moment. She didn’t know what it was or the feeling and thought she liked it, but then she snapped back before being able to revel in it when the cold hit her more.
She pulled the cloak tightly around her to try and capture some kind of warmth. Then she walked to the door or gate. It was larger than most doors but not to the degree that it could be a gate. The distinction quickly lost its way in her mind as her only thought was to get in and try to not freeze. A large ring hung on the door. She reached out and swung it down to knock on the door. A loud echo boomed through the inside.
She stood, shivering. Another crack of thunder erupted. The light provided her a glimpse of the mechanism holding the knocker she had just used. It was in the shape of nose that was on some sort of monster. Something she had never seen before, but it looked like something her father had said in the stories that he had told her when she was a child. She could also see statues to either side of the door that matched the thing on the door, but much larger and with bodies. The one thing that was starkly different than other statues she had seen was that these ones appeared to be in positions of agony. Or it might have been ecstasy, she couldn’t tell in the darkness and with only a flash of sight of them.
The temptation to go over and look closer, maybe even touch them came over her. Something primal was calling to her. She took a step towards the one on her left and an urge to caress it started to intrude into her thoughts. Then the door opened.
The figure before her appeared to be an older woman. She held a lantern in her left hand that hung by her waist, so her head wasn’t clear. She looked into the building and then at the older woman. Though her face was mostly shrouded in darkness she could tell that her gaze was on the drenched body before her. The look was long, almost as the way a wolf at a sheep it plans on having for dinner.
She felt the longing looks had a type of hunger behind them. It was eerie in a way she had never felt before. Finally, the older woman broke the silence. “Dear child, what are you doing out in a storm like this? Get in here and sit by the fire.”
Without a word she walked inside and then heard the large door almost slam behind her. The noise scared her, and she stood still a moment. Then she jumped when a hand touched her back.
“You are a skittish thing, aren’t you?” the old woman said, “And soaked to the bone. This way.”
She was led to a fire on the other side of the large entryway and shown a chair to sit in. She did. Then the woman continued, “I think we have some old clothes around here if you want to get out of those wet things.”
All she could do from the chair.
The old woman looked at her with curiosity, “If you are mute just nod, but it would make things easier if I knew your name child. You don’t have to say more than you feel you need to though.”
She looked at the old woman, whose face was in full view in the fire light. She looked kindly enough, and even trustworthy. Not that she had much choice at this point. “My name is Tia. And thank you for taking me in.”
“No, please. Anyone would have. It is awful out there and would be a crime to let anyone stay in it.”
“Still, thank you. And what should I call you?”
“Miranda works for me, my dear. You just sit there for a moment.” Miranda grabbed a blanket from a couch that was nearby and draped it over the shivering Tia. “I will fetch those clothes now. There is some warm cider in the kettle in front of the fire if you want some.” She then disappeared.
Tia saw the kettle and some cups near it. She reached down and poured one. As she sat back, wrapped in the warm blanket, she sipped. The feeling of the warm liquid coursing its way down her throat was wonderful and she was content for a moment. Then she saw them.
They were hanging there, just above the line of sight of someone who just walked in. The darkness and her coldness made her not look up when she came in originally. Now that she was more comfortable and was by the fire, the light was able to show her the images on the walls. Mostly paintings, but a tapestry or two as well. They looked like depictions of the statues outside. As if an entire motif was in use for the place.
All Tia could do was stare at the ones closest, those that she could se the most of. The urge that she had felt to touch the statues outside was returning as was a smaller version of the feeling she felt from the wind that blew on her. But she knew that she couldn’t touch the paintings, they were too high and out of reach. Instead her mind was telling her to touch herself in their place. She wanted to. She almost needed to.
Her right hand placed the cup, now empty, of cider down while her left pulled up her dress under the blanket. Then her right hand went to where she wanted to touch. She had never done it before, but it seemed so familiar and natural to her. Soon she was becoming wet again, but in a new way. She looked at the paintings again to refresh her need to keep touching. That’s when she noticed what looked like several pairs of eyes peeking at her from a far corner of the room.
For a moment she was startled and stopped. She looked at the corner again, but her eyes were driven back to the paintings on the wall. It was as if all her inhibitions were now lost. She started on herself again. Soon she let go of the blanket and spread her legs in front of the fire. Her hand started to move faster and faster, she began to feel better and better. Then she let out a whimper as a feeling of pleasure took her over and she didn’t care who was watching.
After her climax she quickly came back to her senses and sat back in the chair and wrapped herself back up, feeling ashamed. Miranda reappeared holding some clothes. She drew closer and saw Tia’s face red. “Oh, I really had hoped you would have warmed up faster. I was afraid you might have gotten sick or such out there.”
Tia looked down, embarrassed. Then Miranda looked down and saw drops of something on the floor. She spoke as if she knew what had happened, “Don’t be ashamed of it darling. This place has an effect on people of a, um, passionate nature.”
Tia looked up at her and a kindly look greeted her as Miranda held out the clothes. “Change into these and you’ll feel much better. There is a room over there you can use.” She said pointing towards the corner where Tia had seen the eyes.
She hesitated to get up.
“Is something wrong dear?” Miranda said.
“Um, I thought I saw someone watching me from over there.”
“Oh, them. Don’t worry about them. They are always curious when we get visitors.”
“Our children. As long as you aren’t mean to them, they’ll be fine and stay out of your way.”
“My, you do have a lot of questions. Yes, myself and the mistress of this place. We take in those that others don’t want or those that we can offer more to than the world they knew. But save your questions. Get changed.”
Tia nodded and got up. She made her way towards the corner and saw a door. She opened it and went in. The lantern in the room was brighter than the one Miranda had greeted her at the door with. It was a large washroom and was almost fully revealed to her by the light. Across its walls was a mural similar to the paintings that adorned the walls in the main hall. There was almost no time before she felt the urge again.
She set the dry clothes on the basin and then took her own off. Instead of changing though she grabbed the lantern and walked around the room to study the art in detail. The images were of things she had no idea of, but that seemed to awaken carnal desires in her inner self. There were things happening that she could recognize. She knew of them because of things her mother had explained to her recently. But the things partaking in the images were not all human.
They had human traits. The men depicted were normal, some well-endowed, or so Tia thought. Having never seen one in person made it hard to say. The women, or what Tia thought were women were in various forms. Some had wings, some horns, others fangs, and still others hooves as well as in various combinations. They seemed to be partaking in the acts reserved for married couples. Some of the art depicted many of them doing those things all at once. Tia didn’t understand it all, but it was driving her to want to touch herself again. The eyes of the feminine creatures seemed to be looking at her. At one point she swore a pair even blinked.
Then a whispered voice from no where seemed to say, “Go ahead. You know you want too. It felt so good the last time. It will be better this time.”
She didn’t need the voice, she had already planned on it again. Tia laid the blanket out on the floor and with just her stockings on she lay down. This time she spread her legs far apart and used both hands to touch herself. She was wet once again, and it didn’t matter. Now her eyes were open, and she was looking at the mural as she started to climax. The art drove her more and more to want to feel better and better. The added thought that the women in the pictures were watching her made it even better.
Soon her back was arching, and she was screaming, but didn’t realize that she was. Finally, her back lowered and she could feel the soaked blanket beneath her. She didn’t care. She felt better than she ever had and more relaxed than she ever thought possible. She laid there, still moaning and licked her fingers. They tasted amazing. She had no idea how long she had been here and how many times she had finished. And she didn’t care.