I love writing humorous stories about mature women exploring their sexuality. Add in a horny and frustrated demon and who knows what will happen
She is stretched naked across the altar as he approaches.
There is a new one. Naked and tied across the rock in the centre of the clearing that forms the altar, secured to the iron rings rusted with age, her rump pointing toward the night sky. Legs spread inviting me in, but her sex is dry, closed, sealed with fear.
I stride toward her, see her tense as she hears the clump of cloven feet on the earth. In her mind, the beast is approaching. She is panting, twisting against the ropes, trying to look over her shoulder. Wanting to know what is coming, but terrified by what she will see.
I pause, look down at the straining white flesh and then move around the altar. She screams and writhes against the bonds but they have tied her well. I fill her vision and the sight of me, or maybe the sight of it, standing out from my groin like a third horn, seems to choke the sound from her lungs.
“Are you a virgin?”
She looks up at me, tears streaking her face, her mouth opening and closing like a baby bird begging from its mother but no sound emerges.
“Answer me, girl. Are you a virgin?”
“Yes,” she squeals, sure that the answer will condemn her. She knows I could end her existence without a thought. Strike her from this earth, destroy even the memory of her with a single movement and return to my depths.
She struggles against the ropes as I reach out and place one finger under her chin forcing her to look up at me. “Why do they send me virgins?”
There is a glimmer of light in her eyes, a hint of anger. “Because,” her lips seem to part in a growl, she no longer fears her death. “Because that’s what the elders say you want.”
I shift slightly, become part human. Letting my talons become fingers I lift her chin a fraction. She is feisty, this one. “There are rules,” I look down at her. “I can end your life on a whim but I cannot copulate with you unless you desire it.”
Not true, I know there are no rules, but then I am a demon. My race has populated this earth for centuries.
At first, we ravaged across the surface but each killing, each rape, drained a little of our strength. There came a time when a strong man with a good sword, a little magic and the knowledge of where to strike could slay us. The few who survived retreated into the darkness where we learnt that it is human desire that feeds us, rebuilds us.
“Do you desire this?” I thrust my staff under her nose.
She swallows hard, her throat pulsing.
“And remember girl, I can see into your soul. I will know if you lie.”
She seems to search the corners of her mind before she looks at me, defiance blazing in her eyes. “No.”
My talons form again and slice through the ropes holding her. “Then go back to your miserable village and tell the sanctimonious elders what you have seen. Tell them, if they want to appease me, no more virgins.” I slice through the last of the ropes but she does not run. She stands, rubbing the feeling back into her wrists. She is bold, this one. Maybe one day she will return with a want in her.
“Thank you, Lord,” she says before turning and disappearing into the darkness.
I hear voices calling to me, summoning me. Two women are in the glade but they are not tied. One wears a simple shift that hangs off her breasts and flows over her wide hips. The other has already discarded hers.
Big-breasted and wide-hipped like a mother goddess she turns to look at me almost unafraid. She lifts her chin in defiance. “Cecily told the elders what you said and they are still debating what to do.”
She steps toward me, then hesitates as if expecting lightning bolts to fly from my horns. “But she also told us what she had seen.” Her eyes slide down my body. “And she wasn’t exaggerating.” She half smiles. “That certainly is a mighty weapon.” She drops to her knees. “Maybe you would like to use it on us?” Her voice quavers as she bows her head. “We hope without ending our existence Lord.”
I step close to her. Her head stays bowed, the end of my shaft hovers above her hair. She lifts her face so that the head pulses before her eyes. She raises her hand but the motion freezes in mid-air with indecision.
I feel her fingers encircling my girth, moving sensually back and forth. Her lips envelop the head with soft, liquid pressure and the power begins to flow into me. I lift her to a standing position, my talons, assuming their human form, become fingers that press against the soft pillows of her breasts, searching out and gripping the hard buds at their peaks.
She moans, head thrown back as I lift her and place her rump on the stone of the altar, her legs spread wide. My organ parts her swollen sex and slides into the human warmth within. Her back arches, her arms spread behind her, palms flat on the stone pushing herself onto my shaft as she screams. It is not a sound of pain or fear but one of pure pleasure as she bucks against me.
I feel my seed rising but the other woman is close, standing nervously, a fingertip brushing her lower lip. I withdraw, and swing my glistening demon flesh toward her. There is desire in her eyes as she slides the straps of her shift from her shoulders and it slips to the ground. I place one hand across her shoulders and turn her to face and then bend over the altar. I take the first woman’s hand, pull her upright and turn her to bend next to her companion.
The second may have looked nervous but she is glistening with desire and her lips part like a ripe fruit as I slide into her. She gasps, the sound barely audible, as my length impales her. I pull back, savouring the sensation as she slides back onto my shaft. This is no dry, nervous, virgin. This is a woman liquid with a lust that almost seems to drag my horn into her.
Her sex grips my shaft and I feel it pulsing from within as my seed rises seeking release. She howls, her fingernails scraping the rock beneath her as her body spasms in release.
I pull back, my seed still gushing and plunge into the second waiting glove of flesh. She writhes as I pound into her, forcing her against the stone and impregnating her as well. She uses all her remaining strength to push against me, her muscles locking around my girth, sucking me dry but, in return, I feel the power gushing into me as it is sucked from their soul.
The women lay spent across the stone, they are drained but alive and within hours will recover. I turn to leave.
“My name is Celandine.” The first is pushing herself up off the stone.
I turn and look back to her. I am pleased, she is strong.
“And this is Irina. May we call on you again?”
The next night there are five women at the altar. Several start when I appear but it is not my form that shocks them. Their gaze is lower.
Celandine steps forward. “Welcome, Lord.” She bows.
“How many women are there in your village?” I ask.
Celandine looks at me. “Not counting the virgins?”
“Oh twenty, maybe thirty whose husbands are old and either cannot be bothered to or have forgotten how to fuck them. Then maybe another twenty or so whose husbands are young but don’t know how to fuck them.” She laughs. “So about fifty or sixty that may desire you.”
“That will build up my power. In return, I will place your village under my protection. No marauders will come near whilst that is so.”
Celandine smiled and her hand wrapped around my shaft. “Oh my Lord, I think it is you that is going to need protection.”
Are her lovers and tormentors ghosts, faeries or from another dimension?
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