Woman of His Dreams - Part XII
Welcome to Part 12 of "Woman of his Dreams"! If you're new to my dark little erotic tale, you can find the start here!
Enjoy, and remember, dreams often have a life of their own...
~AC
Cynthia read, enraptured.
The moment Eliana opened the book, she knew she had found the means of her attainment, of power, wealth, and perhaps even more. The page offered up a story, which she read with a swelling illumination in her badly used soul.
Far to the south, the story read, in a land where all men go bare, the maiden Ki’linga had been chosen to be the bride of the Black God. Worshiped by her tribe, her every desire fulfilled, Ki’linga knew she would live no longer than her eighteenth year, when she would be violated on the altar of the Black God to ensure another age of plenty.
But Ki’linga was as clever as she was lovely, and she secretly visited the shrine of the Black God and prayed before the seated statue in the ruined temple, among the serpents and the monkeys, and the Black God spoke to her.
“Eliana,” the god said. “Give yourself to me and you will be saved. Your virtue is nothing against all you will suffer if you are given to me by the wicked priest. “Sit here.”
Ki’linga saw, in the lap of the statue, a stone phallus smooth and cool and she grew wet between her legs.
Eliana knew then exactly what she must do. The book had spoken her name. In the room of breathing shadows, where Nikris communed sometimes with the gods he served and the demons he held in thrall, the wizard kept a stone phallus essential to certain of his rituals. Eliana wanted only the opportunity to use it. She knew the final god had spoken to her through the book and given her the path to salvation.
Those last days in Ruin lay heavy upon her. Naked, she remained, as bidden, and in the last week before her testing, Nikris kept his promise and let his servants who were more and less than human have her. Eliana learned the limits of flesh, her thighs covered with round, toothless bites, her breasts mauled by a man with skin like the shell of a lobster while she took his tri-headed length between her lips. Half past the edge of delirium, she counted only two days until the test, when Nikris would give her all she wished.
“You would be mad to trust him,“ the god’s voice whispered in her ears. “He means to gut you slit to lips, spill you out for me to feast upon, but that is not how I want you. Be my bride, Cynthia.”
She made a plan then to visit the summoning room in the darkest hour of night though first she knew she must exhaust the guards, and the visitors, and the wizard Nikris himself. Using the simple glamours she knew, Eliana enhanced her bust and her hips, her face, her hair, so that each man who saw her would see the form that most pleased him, and every woman who saw her would desire her for a lover.
The evening seemed to last forever as she pleased them all according to taste, taking the horned length of a human devil in her ass, milking the seed from demons, seducing and devouring, yet never ever giving that which the final god demanded.
Last of all, she lay with Nikris who drank the demon seed from between Eliana’s legs even as his tongue coaxed her scream, before she pleasured him with her mouth and her hand, and rubbed the length of her slit along his cock, before sucking him until he had come seven times.
When Nikris slept, Eliana ran to the chamber of summoning and found the phallus. Even as she held it, she knew the ribbed, crowned scepter was not stone but flesh, ancient and divine. She prayed as she placed it between her legs, wet with desire and fear, and pressed.
She felt no pain though she bled rivers. The ribbed length touched her soul and when she worked the shaft in and out of her, she rose like a swan to the sky, each stroke of the phallus a gift from her lord, the final god, until she cried his name, the name that must never be spoken.
There came a pounding, sonorous and powerful, as though someone entreated entrance, but the pounding came from within the very earth and shook the stones of Ruin.
“What have you done?” the wizard Nikris cried when he found her among the smoke and dust, still holding the bloody phallus.
Eliana did not answer him, for the glory of the god burned in her. She knew the world’s new age had come and she would be its queen.
Cynthia wiped perspiration from her upper lip. She scanned the page above the concluding lines, trying to find her name among the old black letters on the page. She had seen it.
Her name had been in the book, though she couldn’t find it now, could hardly even read the words.
But she knew the book had spoken her name.
Enjoy, and remember, dreams often have a life of their own...
~AC
"Woman of His Dreams"
Part 12
by Angela Caperton
Copyright 2010
Part 12
by Angela Caperton
Copyright 2010
Cynthia read, enraptured.The moment Eliana opened the book, she knew she had found the means of her attainment, of power, wealth, and perhaps even more. The page offered up a story, which she read with a swelling illumination in her badly used soul.
Far to the south, the story read, in a land where all men go bare, the maiden Ki’linga had been chosen to be the bride of the Black God. Worshiped by her tribe, her every desire fulfilled, Ki’linga knew she would live no longer than her eighteenth year, when she would be violated on the altar of the Black God to ensure another age of plenty.
But Ki’linga was as clever as she was lovely, and she secretly visited the shrine of the Black God and prayed before the seated statue in the ruined temple, among the serpents and the monkeys, and the Black God spoke to her.
“Eliana,” the god said. “Give yourself to me and you will be saved. Your virtue is nothing against all you will suffer if you are given to me by the wicked priest. “Sit here.”
Ki’linga saw, in the lap of the statue, a stone phallus smooth and cool and she grew wet between her legs.
Eliana knew then exactly what she must do. The book had spoken her name. In the room of breathing shadows, where Nikris communed sometimes with the gods he served and the demons he held in thrall, the wizard kept a stone phallus essential to certain of his rituals. Eliana wanted only the opportunity to use it. She knew the final god had spoken to her through the book and given her the path to salvation.
Those last days in Ruin lay heavy upon her. Naked, she remained, as bidden, and in the last week before her testing, Nikris kept his promise and let his servants who were more and less than human have her. Eliana learned the limits of flesh, her thighs covered with round, toothless bites, her breasts mauled by a man with skin like the shell of a lobster while she took his tri-headed length between her lips. Half past the edge of delirium, she counted only two days until the test, when Nikris would give her all she wished.
“You would be mad to trust him,“ the god’s voice whispered in her ears. “He means to gut you slit to lips, spill you out for me to feast upon, but that is not how I want you. Be my bride, Cynthia.”
She made a plan then to visit the summoning room in the darkest hour of night though first she knew she must exhaust the guards, and the visitors, and the wizard Nikris himself. Using the simple glamours she knew, Eliana enhanced her bust and her hips, her face, her hair, so that each man who saw her would see the form that most pleased him, and every woman who saw her would desire her for a lover.
The evening seemed to last forever as she pleased them all according to taste, taking the horned length of a human devil in her ass, milking the seed from demons, seducing and devouring, yet never ever giving that which the final god demanded.
Last of all, she lay with Nikris who drank the demon seed from between Eliana’s legs even as his tongue coaxed her scream, before she pleasured him with her mouth and her hand, and rubbed the length of her slit along his cock, before sucking him until he had come seven times.
When Nikris slept, Eliana ran to the chamber of summoning and found the phallus. Even as she held it, she knew the ribbed, crowned scepter was not stone but flesh, ancient and divine. She prayed as she placed it between her legs, wet with desire and fear, and pressed.
She felt no pain though she bled rivers. The ribbed length touched her soul and when she worked the shaft in and out of her, she rose like a swan to the sky, each stroke of the phallus a gift from her lord, the final god, until she cried his name, the name that must never be spoken.
There came a pounding, sonorous and powerful, as though someone entreated entrance, but the pounding came from within the very earth and shook the stones of Ruin.
“What have you done?” the wizard Nikris cried when he found her among the smoke and dust, still holding the bloody phallus.
Eliana did not answer him, for the glory of the god burned in her. She knew the world’s new age had come and she would be its queen.
Cynthia wiped perspiration from her upper lip. She scanned the page above the concluding lines, trying to find her name among the old black letters on the page. She had seen it.
Her name had been in the book, though she couldn’t find it now, could hardly even read the words.
But she knew the book had spoken her name.
Continued in Part 13
Copyright 2010 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Copyright 2010 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Posted by Angela Caperton at 8/7/2010 3:05 PM 
Categories: dark erotica, Lovecraft, Angela Caperton, Woman of His Dreams
Tags: dark erotica Lovecraft Angela Caperton Woman of His Dreams
Categories: dark erotica, Lovecraft, Angela Caperton, Woman of His Dreams
Tags: dark erotica Lovecraft Angela Caperton Woman of His Dreams
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