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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2011. Please
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Possession
by Cute Fuzzy Bunny (cutefuzzybunnies@aol.com)
***
A scary horror tale about a demon and a woman. (MF, nec,
demon)
***
The air in the dank motel room was thick and cloying,
reeking of the aftermath of death.
She lay upon the bed in death's languid repose, less
than glamorous by any opinion. Once luminous skin was
now painted in gradations of gray and purple by the
blind hand of decay. Flies buzzed merrily about,
feasting upon the dried blood that had pooled upon the
cheap sheets from the deep gashes in her wrists.
He watched her, as he so often had, from a distance.
Standing against the far wall, his dark clothing melded
him into the deep shadows cast by the bare, solitary
bathroom bulb. Only the light in his eyes stood out,
pupils glowing with a dark luminescence as he looked
upon her.
She had never understood him, his purpose, and his love.
She saw only what her fears and preconceptions allowed
her to see. That's why she always ran from him. Why she
always went into hiding, changed her name, changed her
appearance. She never understood his love for her.
Walking slowly towards the bed, boots heavy upon the
bare wooden floor, he wondered how it had gone so wrong.
He loved her. He had told her so. He had explained to
her how much his love meant, how rare and indeed
impossible it was for him to love her in the way he did.
Each time she only begged to be released, tearfully
begged for mercy. Wasn't the fact that he always
released her to run again sufficient evidence of his
care, his understanding and compassion? When all he
wanted to do in the world was take her in his arms and
crush her into his being, to caress her spirit and make
love to her soul?
All she did was run.
She knew she could never truly hide from him. He always
found her, sooner or later. From the bright, callow
chaos of Las Vegas, to the depths of the Old South. Even
her mother's cabin in the wilderness. He always found
her.
As he had found her here in this lowly place, this sewer
with walls.
Above the bed, scrawled in blood she left her last words
for him.
"You won't find me now!"
Walking to the bedside, he looked upon her and sighed,
seeing only her beauty despite the decay. He loved her
still, as he would forever. That is what she could never
understand. His love was eternal.
As she would be.
Leaning down, he gently kissed her swollen lips, tasting
her decaying tongue.
With great care he pulled her eyelids open, revealing
sunken, unfocused eyes.
"Hello, my beauty," he whispered, kissing her forehead
before standing again. With slow precision he stripped
away his clothing, revealing a perfect form, marred only
by an odd tattoo on his shoulder.
Free of all clothing, he knelt upon the bed with her,
sliding between her flaccid thighs. Staring into her
lifeless eyes, he primed himself and slowly pushed into
her, a burning spear thrust into cold meat.
"I told you that I would do anything for you," he
whispered, slowly beginning to move within her while
staring all the while into those listless eyes.
"And so I shall."
The bed began to move, slowly at first, as he thrust
into her decaying womanhood. Soon the aged springs were
protesting and the bed was quaking with his desire as he
took possession of her lifeless form again and again,
her sagging breasts quivering in gelatinous tremors.
With each thrust he began a guttural chant in an arcane
tongue, the feral glow of his eyes pulsing brighter with
each dark, powerful phrase.
Again and again he slammed into her, the chant growing
louder and stronger until the windows rattled in reply.
At last he arrived, his member swelling and unleashing a
torrent of fire into her womb as he poured himself into
her with an unearthly bellow that shattered the windows
and fractured the mirrors.
Those dead, listless eyes stirred, struggled to focus.
His was the face they saw, inches from theirs, eyes
aglow with infernal light.
"Now, you are mine." He said in half whisper and half
growl, struggling for breath. "And now," he said, voice
distant and slipping. "Now you know a demon's love."
From the throat of the dead woman came a choked,
guttural scream as the form upon hers went limp and
heavy in death.
Like an invalid trying to remember how to move, she
fought her body and screamed at her limbs as they
struggled to move again, slowly returning to life as the
dark fire slowly pulsed through her veins. After a
seeming eternity she was able to roll to one side and
push the corpse from the bed. It fell unceremoniously to
the floor, arms and legs at odd angles.
As if drunk she stood and swayed, reaching for something
to steady her listing form, sending a lamp crashing to
the floor in the attempt. Leaning against a wall, her
fingernails dug grooves in the wood as she drew deep,
thick breaths of air.
She looked at arms, at her wrists. The deep gauges were
gone, though the dried blood remained. The purpling
splotches were fading as she watched. Within moments her
skin returned to its natural pale luster.
Confident in her stability now, she walked to the edge
of the bed and peered down upon the fallen form there,
already in the later stages of decomposition.
The edges of her lips twitched. Something was rising
within her. She giggled at first, reluctantly. Then
giggled again, and soon began laughing.
"You bastard," she said through the laughter. "You
pathetic Demon bastard!" She screamed with delight,
tossing the soiled blankets around with glee. "I knew
you'd do this," she crowed to the decaying corpse on the
floor. "Didn't think I knew what you were? Thought I was
that naive? Just a scared little girl with her Demon
lover bemoaning his love for her?"
She laughed again as she opened a drawer, took out fresh
clothing, and began to dress. She had so many plans and
so much to do, now that she had all the time in the
world.
"Uncle John was a priest, or didn't I mention that? An
Exorcist, before being defrocked. He had such wonderful
books, all about demons," she said, leaning down to
smirk at the tattoo. "All about you, Guzrial.
"Now I have your essence," she said, standing to look
triumphantly into the splintered mirror, smiling at the
crimson glow within her eyes. "I have eternal life,
without a love-struck demon with sulfur for breath
barking at my heels like a pathetic puppy."
"Kiss kiss, lover," she said, blowing a sarcastic kiss
to the corpse as she started for the door.
"Kisses for you as well, my sweet."
Whirling back, she looked at the corpse, now only a
puddle of foulness upon the floor.
"What's wrong, little angel?"
She spun around again, madly looking about the room.
"Where are you," she screamed. "You can't be here! I
have your Essence!"
"Ah, but I am here, my sweet. I'm here, with you."
With horror in her eyes she looked back to the mirror
and held her hands to her ears, suddenly knowing where
he was.
She screamed, and he laughed, as one.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 70