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In The Flesh Ch 33: Dark Paranormal Romance in Progress. Enjoy!

 

In the Flesh 11880534_1463650103936599_545702979581425574_n

It’s Friday! Time for chapter 33 of In The Flesh, in which Susan comes back to herself with a lot to learn.

There are only a few more episodes of In The Flesh left, so be sure to mark Fridays on your calendar, and hold on to your hats because things are getting wild.

 

In the Flesh  is very dark paranormal erotica. When Susan Innes comes to visit her friend, Annie Rivers, in Chapel House, the deconsecrated church that Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend changed, reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover whom she claims is god. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human, and even worse, he’s turned his wandering eye on Susan, and he won’t be denied his prize. If Susan is to fight an inhuman stalker intent on having her as his own, she’ll need a little inhuman help.

 

 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16, Part 17Part 18Part 19Part 20Part 21Part 22Part 23Part 24Part 25 Part 26Part 27Part 28Part 29, Part 30Part 31, Part 32.

 

You can also read In The Flesh on Wattpad.  

 

In The Flesh Chapter 33

I don’t remember much of the next few days. Occasionally I would realize that Alonso or Magda were in the room with me, but mostly my focus was on whoever served as my meal. The rest of the time I slept somewhere beyond the dream world, truly the sleep of the dead, I suppose. But I always woke ravenous, always beyond the grasp of my own rationality, always beyond the grasp of my own control. Most of the time I wasn’t familiar with whoever fed me, and as long there was a source of blood, I didn’t really care who they were. When my conscience did rear it’s seriously brow-beaten head, whoever was with me at the time would assure me that Michael was all right and that I had not killed or permanently maimed anyone. On the third day, I came back to myself, my whole body tingling, especially my tongue and lips, which were pressed against the open vein at Talia’s wrist. I gave a little shutter that could have possibly been an orgasm, after all, Talia was a succubus. As I eased myself away from her wrist with a quick lap of my tongue to seal the wound, the world righted itself and I was able to exert some control.

“Welcome back,” she said, with a wicked smile. “We were beginning to think you would drain us all and all of Magda’s household too before you were finally sated.” She glanced down at the inside of her wrist. “If you can resist my blood, sweet little Scribe, then I reckon you’re well on your way to learning some control.”

My stomach growled and she nodded down to it. “You’ll have to learn to manage the hunger. It’ll get easier with time and practice, but it never goes away, or so Alonso tells me. You were lucky to have his strength as well as Magda’s and Michael’s.” She shrugged, “and yours truly of course, to keep you and everyone around you safe. You’ve been pretty much out of control for the last three days.”

There was a soft knock on the door and Alonso pushed his way into the room, offering a huge smile when he saw me sitting up in the bed. “How do you feel, darling girl?”

431px-Medusa_Mascaron_(New_York,_NY)            “Different,” was the only reply I could think of, and that was an answer no one would have understood better than Alonso Darlington.

“Of course you do. I would expect nothing else under the circumstances, but you also seem a little more yourself this evening.”

“Well she didn’t try to rip my throat out when I pulled away from her,” Talia said. When Alonso glared at her she only shrugged. “That’s what she’d been doing, isn’t it?”

“Your comments are not helpful, Talia.”

She heaved a hard-put-upon sigh. “Sadly honesty is seldom seen as helpful, even when it’s exactly what’s needed.” She kissed me lightly on the mouth, leaving a tingle in places far removed from my lips, then stood and left the room.

Before I could ask, Alonso answered my question. “Michael is fine, only frustrated and hurt that you won’t see him.”

The flood of relief was overshadowed by the gut wrench of knowing that I’d hurt him, that he didn’t understand why I had to keep him away. I blinked back tears at the sudden tug of loss. “You know why I won’t see him. I won’t put him at risk again.”

“He put himself at risk, darling girl, a thing which he would happily tell you if you would but allow it. Have you forgotten that he is an angel?”

“Of course I’ve not forgotten what he is, nor have I forgotten that I nearly killed him.”

“He could have pulled away from you at any time, Susan, but for his possessiveness. The foolish man wanted you to take only from him, a desire I can easily understand, being a rather possessive creature myself.” I could tell by the inward turn of his smile that he was thinking of Reese. “I fear your Angel is not pleased with the bond you now, of necessity, have with me.”

“You mean he nearly let himself be killed because of a stupid testosterone pissing contest?”

Alonso laughed quietly. “We men are strange creatures no matter if we are angels or demons. It is in our nature to view the world in terms of our territory and our possessions. It is in our nature to protect and provide for those we see as our own.”

“Even if it kills you?”

“My darling girl, in our eyes death is well-deserved if we are not men enough to take care of our own. If you are to understand your angel, you must learn this fact. And in all fairness, he should have been able to provide the nourishment you needed alone. He is strong enough, and as an angel he is quickly replenished of his life force and ready to meet your demands again. In truth, I would not have believed you could deplete him after I had fed you so well so recently. I have never known one so ravenous as you have been.”

“I’m sorry. I … I couldn’t control myself.” I was suddenly unable to meet his gaze, the heat of shame scorching my face. “It’s just that I’m always so hungry.”

“Do not be sorry, darling one. Creatures such as ourselves are not known for their control. And let us be candid, your circumstances are extenuating to say the least. We do not know the effects of what you have taken upon yourself yet.”

For the first time since Alonso made me, I had the presence of mind to remember why I had asked him to do such a thing, but I had no time to search inside myself to discover if the Guardian were there before Alonso continued. “I have brought you here in this safe place so that you may learn control, so that you may learn what is needed, so that you may learn to hunt properly when you must feed outside those who willingly serve as your source of nutrition, and so that you may give something back when you must do so. Sadly I had no one to teach me in the beginning, and if it had not been for Magda Gardener, I do not know what might have become of me.”

“So that’s how she knows about feeding from the heart’s blood.”Bernini Hades and Persephone close uptumblr_lg4h59T3z31qe2nvuo1_500

He nodded. “I was little more than a revenant when she took me. When I came back to myself in my lucid moments, the horror of what I had done, the guilt sent me scurrying back into my darkness. She took me into her home, isolated me in a cave she had prepared for my needs and fed me of her own blood alone until I was calm enough and rational enough to learn control, and to learn to live with what I had become. In that time with her, I discovered that there are many creatures such as I– and not all of them vampires by any means. We must all learn to live with our own darkness and find a way forward – not to make amends, for we can never right the wrongs we have done no matter how many lifetimes our existence might be. But, instead, we must learn to live lives that are … of value in the present.” He held my gaze. “I have not killed for a very, very long time, my darling girl, but the memories of what I have done do not fade, just as I am sure Magda’s do not, nor will yours. My life lived well is my penance, and my joy, as yours will be, in time.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why would Magda do that? Why didn’t she just … you know, turn you to stone?”

This time his smile was edged with a bitter chuckle. “I believe I was very much hoping for a stake through the heart. I fear I would have single-handedly decimated a small village in the Yorkshire Dales if she hadn’t hunted me down, brought me back to Cumbria and taken me under her wing. You see, the village elders sought her out for that purpose. Mortals are nothing if not a cunning lot, and surprisingly good at overcoming insurmountable odds. Indeed, Magda could have ended my miserable existence, and easily. In fact I begged her to at least a thousand times during those dark days when she held me captive. You see, I owe her much.” As though he anticipated my next question, he waved a dismissive hand. “Oh it is always difficult to tell with Magda Gardener if her acts are done out of compassion or out of her own desires to add to the Consortium.” Another chuckle. “That’s what she calls those she has brought together when she’s putting, how is it you say, the proper spin on it, but we all just call ourselves Magda’s collection, of which both myself and the angel and now you, my darling girl, are a part.”

For a moment, we both sat in silence, then he moved onto the bed next to me, unbuttoned his shirt and with a quick flick of a fingernail opened the vein above his heart, still holding my gaze. “In the days ahead of us, my little one, I will give you of myself, but a sip here and there, to strengthen our bond and to make you stronger. While others will be the source of your nourishment, what I can offer of myself will help you in what you must learn, and it will comfort and calm you as well.”

For the first time since my new life began, I didn’t lunge; for the first time, I let him gently guide me to the flow, which I savoured with light flicks of my tongue and pulls of my pursed lips.

He grunted softly. “You must be careful, my darling girl. The pleasure you receive from the taking is returned in kind, and while I am sure Reese would understand if I took you that way, living with a vampire and a succubus as he does, I am not sure I could forgive myself, and I am most certain your angel would not forgive me. In fact, I do believe he would seek out a stake for my heart.

I pulled away and sat up next to him. “I’m sorry. I –”

“Do not apologize, my darling. You must learn. I shall teach you. When you feed from your angel, you may take of his manhood, which will happily respond to your feeding, as you already know. In fact,” he offered me a wicked smile, “you may feed him from your heart’s blood,” he made a negating sign with his hand. “Only but a little, for he will not be able to take more without becoming intoxicated. A little, however, will pleasure both of you in ways you will find startlingly delightful.” He rebuttoned his shirt and wiped as smudge of his blood from my lips with the pad of his thumb, licking it off with a quick flick of his tongue, which made my heart race. “And now, my dear girl, there is someone here who very much wants to see you.”

There was a knock at the door and Magda stepped in with Annie at her side looking startlingly well, if 2015-09-04 16.17.13still quite thin. “I have given her but a little of my own blood to help her heal,” Alonso whispered next to my ear, or at least I thought he had, but then I realized I had heard his voice inside my head. “Yes, my darling Susan, there are other connections besides blood that we now share.” He nodded to Annie. “Go to her. You will not hurt her, of that I’m certain.”

The thought was barely complete before Annie broke from Magda’s solicitous hold on her arm and ran to the bed, throwing herself into my embrace. “You’re all right! Oh thank God you’re all right,” she sobbed against my shoulder. I could see the hammering of her pulse in the vein of her throat. I could smell the sweet flowery scent of her blood within. But inside my head, almost inside the centre of my chest, I could feel Alonso’s reassuring nod. So, gently, carefully, I pulled her closer and found myself sobbing in empathy. “You’re a vampire now?” She pulled back wiping her eyes and looking me over as though she expected me to flash my fangs – fangs which I wasn’t even sure I had, but surely I must, I had no problem getting to the source of blood offered from a wrist or a neck, and while Alonso had assured me that the vampires lack of reflection is only an old wives tale, I had not had the presence of mind to truly inspect myself for changes.

“I am, yes.” I found myself blushing.

“And you did that for me?” A huge tear rolled down her thin, but healthy looking cheek. “Oh Susan, I never meant for this to happen.”

“I know,” I pulled her back against my shoulder and let her cry. “It wasn’t your fault, Annie. It wasn’t your fault. If anyone is to blame it’s me, and I’m so, so sorry.”

“What has happened is no one’s fault,” Alonso said. “Blame will do no one any good in moving forward into a future that, while quite different from the one I’m sure we all anticipated, will be bright.”

“Come darling. We’d best leave our little scribe to get her rest.” Magda shot first me, and then Alonso a glance from beneath her glasses as she motioned to Annie.

“Can’t I stay just a little longer,” Annie protested. “Susan isn’t going to hurt me. Susan would never hurt me.”

“Best you don’t just now,” Alonso said, reaching to push her hair, which once again was a shiny golden blonde, away from her face. “Susan is just now coming back to herself, and she has much to learn about being what she now is if she is to remain safe and keep those around her safe.”

On an impulse, Annie leaned in and landed a kiss on my cheek, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the dark moon image_xl_6338206scent of her, the powerful efforts of her blood to heal her, to restore her health, the fact that she lived and breathed and that her body held what I needed. I curled my fingers in her hair and pulled her close with more force than I intended. She gave a little Yelp of surprise, but threw her arms around me in a bear hug. There was no fear in her in spite of what I had become, in spite of the fact that I wanted to taste her blood with a need that was so close to physical my chest ached and my stomach clenched. With the preternatural senses I was still trying to get used to, I could not only see the tension tightening Magda and Alonso’s bodies, but I could feel the change in their breathing, in their blood pressure, even a change in the very scent of them. They were nervous. They were afraid, both tensing to pull Annie away from me should things go tits up, which I knew with the pounding of my own heart was a very real possibility.

I don’t know exactly how it happened. It was all so fast, but I lowered my mouth just to kiss, just to touch that place where her heart beat in her throat with my lips, maybe with my tongue and then there was a moan that sounded like someone in agony, and I was suddenly on the far side of the bed up against the wall, trembling like a leaf in a Cumbrian storm.

Annie’s eyes were huge and round as Magda all but jerked her to her side and stepped back beyond the threshold with no less preternatural speed. But just as Magda pulled her through the door, Annie grabbed the molding and stopped progress long enough to turn to me. “I’ll see you soon, Susan. I think we’re long overdue for a girl’s night in, you know, a nice bottle of wine, a good chin wag? She can drink wine can’t she,” she asked Alonso.

He offered his usual calming smile. “Do not you worry my dear Annie, our Susan will be able to drink wine, though she may no longer find it’s taste to her liking.”In The Flesh 2 12006311_1476805985954344_6570546160088833292_n

Annie’s laugh was nearly a sob. “I can’t imagine Susan Innes ever being dead enough not to revel in a good glass of Malbec.” She blew me a kiss as Magda all but pulled her bodily through the door, and then
I found myself sobbing in Alonso’s arms, even as I smelled his confusion.

“My darling girl, whatever is the matter? Why are you weeping so? Do you not wish to enjoy a good chin wagging with dear Annie?”

“Of course I do,” I blubbered, “but you saw what just happened. You had to pull me off her. I’m not safe. I’m not safe!”

“Of course you’re not safe, my dear Scribe, and neither am I, but I promise you I did not pull you away from Annie. You backed away yourself, and a good thing the wall was stone or you would have gone right through it in your efforts to keep her safe.”

 

In The Flesh Ch 31: Dark Paranormal Erotica in Progress. Enjoy!

In the Flesh 11880534_1463650103936599_545702979581425574_nHappy Holidays everyone!  And here’s a little dark paranormal pressie for you. In The flesh Chapter 31 in which Susan’s plan is played out in chilling ways. But will it work?

There are only a few more episodes of In The Flesh left, so be sure to mark Fridays on your calendar, and hold on to your hats because things are about to get wild.

In the Flesh  is very dark paranormal erotica. When Susan Innes comes to visit her friend, Annie Rivers, in Chapel House, the deconsecrated church that Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend changed, reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover whom she claims is god. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human, and even worse, he’s turned his wandering eye on Susan, and he won’t be denied his prize. If Susan is to fight an inhuman stalker intent on having her as his own, she’ll need a little inhuman help.

 

 

To read the story in its entirety up to this point, follow the links.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16, Part 17Part 18Part 19Part 20Part 21Part 22Part 23Part 24Part 25 Part 26Part 27Part 28Part 29.

 

In The Flesh Chapter 31

“What is this strange feeling?” the Guardian said from wherever He was settled inside me, a place that, when I thought about it, felt like it might be just behind my breastbone. “I feel giddy, like your flesh has suddenly gotten heavier, and I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

“I’m just tired,” I said. “Having lots of sex does that to a mortal body and, though Michael doesn’t need rest, or didn’t when he was with you, it truly is one of the best parts of sex — that slide into the warm cottony afterglow of sleep after you’re well sated.”

“Then I must experience it,” He said as I yawned mightily. “Oh Susan, I must experience it all! I had no idea just how delightful female flesh could be to inhabit. My darling you have opened up whole new vistas for me, for us. Perhaps I shall divide my time between inhabiting your flesh and my angel’s, now that I know you are strong enough to house me. I think I should love to know what his cock feels like to you. I believe his substantial size would be a delightful pleasure thrusting up inside you.”

I only nodded and yawned again. Though I would have much preferred to stay awake, I had to sleep if the plan were to work. Talia had assured me that I would find sleep no problem when the time came. I wasn’t sure what she had done to me other than kiss me on the mouth and stroke me behind the ear, but it didn’t matter as long as it worked.

“Then let us experience sleep together, my little scribe, and when we awaken, I shall summon our angel and perhaps we shall punish him together for keeping us waiting.”

And we did. We slept, or at least I thought I slept. I thought I dreamed. I thought surely it must be Talia’s doing. I drifted for a long time aware of the foreign presence inside me, aware that it was only Magda’s talisman that kept just enough of me safe and focused. Without it I would be easily taken over by that presence. It was the champagne bubble effervescence coursing over my entire body that roused me from deep sleep to the place almost of waking but not quite. The feel of a feather touch raised the fine hairs on my forearms, up my spine, on the back of my neck, goose fleshing the tops of my breasts and tightening my nipples to bullet points.

“I’m here now, my darling girl. Don’t be afraid. It will hurt but a little, and then you will feel nothing but pleasure.”

I felt myself being lifted, cradled like a child in strong, hard arms. Then I inhaled the cold wild scent of the high fells and below it earth, solid and warmed by moss and fallen leaves, and I could have wept with relief, even as fear shot along all my nerve endings.

“Scribe, why is the vampire here with us?” The Guardian’s voice was more curious than upset.

“We’re dreaming,” I mumbled. ” A dream brought on by our self-pleasure, no doubt.”

“How so?”

“Perhaps you don’t crave the flesh of a vampire, but I assure you, we mortals do.”

“Why?”

“Because vampires have what we don’t — eternal life.”

“But they are dead,” He said.

“We mortals don’t see them that way. To us they’re powerful, beautiful, because they symbolise lust and dark moon image_xl_6338206virility, and we fantasise about being taken by them.”

There was a soft chuckle next my ear and cool fingers against my bare nape, pushing my hair aside.

“I did not know.” The Guardian said. “It seems very real.”

“Powerful dreams always do. Sometimes when we’re in them, it’s very difficult to tell if they’re real or not.”

“Then how do you know that this dream is not real?”

“A vampire would have no more use for you than you do for him,” I replied. “And it was he who sent me here, remember?”

“Of course.” The Guardian didn’t question my logic further for which I was grateful.

“We shall begin now, my darling girl,” came the voice next to my ear. “You have only to let me take you, and when I am finished, when I have emptied you completely and hold your life force within me, then I shall give it back to you, only changed.”

“Is this not the vampire from High View, Scribe — the one who grovels before Magda Gardener?”

I felt a vibration against my neck that might have been a growl, might have been a purr. “It is, yes.”

“And you find him attractive?”

“It’s a dream,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”

“Careful, my darling girl, you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“I suppose he’s comely enough.” The Guardian observed. “A pity his flesh is not living. I might enjoy inhabiting such a fine, strong body.”

“Good heavens, he is irritating, isn’t he?” Alonso’s voice was like velvet against my ear and with a start, I realised the Guardian couldn’t hear what Alonso said to me.

“He’s dreaming, Susan. You, however, are not. You must tell me now if you do not wish me to continue, for once I have tasted you, especially in your lust and your vulnerability, there will be no turning back, and I do not wish for you to despise me for what I have done.”

With an effort that seemed colossal, I slid my arm around his neck, amazed at how soft and how dark his hair was. As I pulled him to me, he stayed my efforts, only for a moment, and he kissed my cheek then held my gaze, only for a second longer, and his eyes were darker than midnight. Then he lowered his mouth to my nape, to the vein pulsing like a driving drum beat. His lips were deliciously warm, and it came as a surprise when he ran the flat if his tongue along the length of the vein pressing, lapping like a cat tasting milk and then pressing again with the tip as though he were probing for just the right spot.

The intake of his breath was like the sigh of a summer breeze. He kissed me once, on the spot where my pulse beat the strongest, and then again. My hand in his hair tightened to a fist. I caught my breath and held it, waiting in his embrace. It was a sharp pain, precise and doubled — just two pinpoints of pain like a surgeon’s twin incision against the side of my throat. I had barely time to notice it before blinding pain took my breath away. The world flashed white hot around me and I panicked and began to struggle, but he held me tightly, and as the skin gave beneath his bite, as I felt my blood flooding to his lips, I heard his voice inside my head.

“That is the worst of it done, my darling girl. Now you need only relax and let me take you.”

“Ouch!” Came the other voice in my head, reminding me I wasn’t alone with Alonso and surprising me how badly I suddenly wanted to be. “That was not pleasant. Susan, are dreams usually so physical?”

“Talia, can you not silence him?” Alonso spoke inside my head again and, for the first time, I noticed the succubus sat at my feet, gently stroking my ankle. She said nothing, but the Guardian gave a soft moan of contentment, or rather I did, but I knew it was his. And for the first time since He had deceived His way into my life, I was relieved that He was silent, that He couldn’t touch me, even though I felt the fullness of him pressing gently against the inside of my chest. I needed Him to sleep and to leave me alone for a little while longer, and it was with that thought I realised I was clinging to Alonso’s strong, well muscled frame and I wanted him like I had never wanted before. Christ! I wanted him to devour me, to take me completely into himself. I had never imagined it would be like this. Somehow I’d thought it would be more macabre, more solomn.

I would have writhed if I could have. I would have pulled him closer, if I could have, but I was lost, drowning in the swift flowing river of my blood that he pulled into his mouth in deep, thirsty gulps. That l couldn’t move, that my body was completely held in thrall to the flow of my own blood into his mouth mattered less that the fact that he fed from me, an act so powerful, so incredibly intimate, that I felt shy, awkward.

“It’s all right that you feel this way my darling Susan, for so we all feel at our making.” He spoke as rose imagesthough he’d read my thoughts, though in truth what I experienced was far too primal to actually be thoughts. “There is no act more intimate, no connection deeper than the taking and giving of blood. What I take now is meant to give me life, to give me your life, but only so I may give you back my own. In this act, we shall both find pleasure, and you will be more than my familiar. You will be the child of my own heart’s blood.”

There was a sudden thrashing behind my breastbone. Though I knew it wasn’t physical, it was no less real. “Susan, you have deceived me. I shall punish you very severely for this duplicity. Do you really think a dead creature can keep me from what is mine?” The Guardian’s voice was not raised, but in it was the edge of disquiet I’d not heard before.

“For your impertinence, vampire, I shall take your succubus and use her long and hard, even if she does
reek of your death.”

“You can try.” The voice that responded was different, and in my groggy, giddy state, a blurred apparition of Magda Gardener pushed aside the makeshift curtain that separated the mattress from the rest of the area. Even with her glasses still in place, her hair seemed to writhe and danced around her face as though it lived and breathed anger and fury. “I won’t hesitate to turn the scribe and the vampire if that’s what it takes, and well you know this.”

I felt as though my whole body jerked and struggled around the still point at which Alonso’s mouth pressed against my vein, but in truth I had not physically moved. I was incapable of movement, completely enthralled by the ebb and flow of my blood and the kiss and bite of the vampire at my throat.

“That won’t be necessary, Magda,” Talia spoke, her hand still caressing my ankle and my calf. “We’ve got this.”

“You shall all suffer for this deception!” The words came from Talia’s throat, but the Guardian spoke them from inside my body.

“Oh I doubt it,” the succubus managed in the next breath, her grip secure on my leg. And then He spoke inside my head, only to me, and I knew that no one else could hear Him.

“Susan, my darling little scribe, you can still set me free, just as you’ve done before. I can give you so much more than this vampire can. I can give you the mind of God, only release me and I promise you there will be no punishment, no recriminations, but I shall embrace you as my own. What I have promised, I shall perform. I shall give you the mind of God.”

“But you’re not God. I know this now. As I released you, so I now return you to your captivity. Only this time, I hold the key in a place where you can never reach it.” It was a thought, nothing more, but He heard me, and so did Alonso.

“Then I shall enthrall another to stake you and set me free,” the Guardian said.

“I’m already dead.” I replied. “If I become ash, I take you with me. All doors are closed to you. And now, you have your wish, a home in the flesh.”

“Susan, no. Susan please don’t do this. There is so much I have to offer you, so much to tell you, to show you. Please don’t do this.” I heard his voice from a long way off, and for a moment I feared he was escaping, but the weight pressing on my chest became more desperate as the voice drifted farther and farther away, and I must have moaned out loud. Perhaps I even thrashed. But then Alonso’s calming voice filled my whole body.

“There is nothing to worry about, my darling girl. All is exactly as it should be. His efforts of desperation In The Flesh 2 12006311_1476805985954344_6570546160088833292_nwill end soon, for you are nearing your death, and then we will remake you. I promise you the Guardian cannot leave. As for you there is now no turning back, so is it for him.”

“Not long now,” Talia said, and suddenly my vision was filled with Michael, who stepped around Magda and pushed his way forward. My heart was filled with Michael no matter where the Guardian resided inside me, and I think I tried to smile. But even that was such an effort.

He settled on the mattress next to me and took my limp hand in his pressing a kiss to my palm and closing my fingers around it.

“Not long now,” Talia said again.

This time with my last effort, with my last coherent thought, I shouted in my mind, the only part of me that still worked, “I love you, Michael. Tell him I love him … Tell him … Please tell him …

His fingers jerked against mine. A single tear slid down his cheek. He bent and pressed a kiss to my lips. It was the last thing I felt as I drew the breath of the living for the final time.

 

Vintage Grace: Wet Dreams Part 2 FREE STORY

dark moon image_xl_6338206WARNING:  ADULTS CONTENT!

Well, here we are well into September, and we’re already feeling the cool damp breezes here in South England. BUT I like to keep that summer sizzle going as long as possible, so as I promises, some really filthy vintage K D Grace.For your reading pleasure, as promised, here is Part 2 of Wet Dreams, which is one of the first stories I had published and, like a lot of my early stories, WET DREAMS is very filthy and not for the faint of heart. It is erotica … XXX all the way.  As some of you are aware of my attitude about condoms in erotica, especially when it’s very strictly fantasy, be warned, even without a condom, this story is safe sex because IT IS FICTION! Please enjoy it for what it is. 

If you’ve not read Part 1, find it here

Wet Dreams: Part 2

When the subjects arrived in the evening, he usually left the preparations to his graduate assistants. He felt the less he actually associated with the subjects the more objective he would be, but this evening, he made sure that it was he who prepped Three.

When he came to her, she was already curled up on her bed in the same nightie she had worn the night before. It was soft blue silk, buttoned just high enough to contain her breasts and just far enough down to hide her panties. His penis stirred at the way the silk lay against her hips and slid off one shoulder revealing the deep shadows of her collarbones. Her eyes were closed beneath a heavy fringe of dark lashes that matched her mussed, tomboyish hair. And her soft pubic curls, which he had only seen in a dream, he quickly reminded himself. She moaned softly and yawned, already approaching the gateway of vulnerable, innocent sleep.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, and her eyes fluttered open. “Doctor Nevins?” Her voice was warm and drowsy.

“In the flesh. Here to hook you up for dream time.” He felt stupid the minute he’d said it. What would she think? She knew no one read her dream journal but him. What an idiot!

A soft blush crawled up her cheeks. As sorry as he was that he’d made her uncomfortable, he was not sorry to see how the color glowed against the perfect arches of her cheekbones.

“I’m ready.” She offered him a shy smile. As she sat up, he caught a glimpse of her nipples pressed against the nightie. The memory of her tweaking them to erection as she fondled herself in his dream nearly took his breath away and made him very glad for the extra length of the lab coat covering the bulge growing in his trousers.

She sat very still as he fumbled with the electrodes. He was painfully aware of the touch of her hair against his hand, of the awkward brush of his arm against her breast as he checked the mobile monitor. He felt as though he would hyperventilate being this close to her, knowing what he knew. Worse yet, he feared he’d come in his pants right there in front of her, the pressure building in his balls felt so relentless.

This was insane. He didn’t even know this woman, this woman who had trusted him into her most intimate space, a space he couldn’t help feeling he had somehow violated. He reminded himself, as he had his subjects so many times, he wasn’t responsible for what he dreamed. As she thanked him and lie down, she lifted her legs into bed just so he got the tiniest glimpse of pink panties caressing the curve of her bottom and the pouting folds of her vulva. “Pleasant dreams,” he blurted. Then he fled back to the protection of the control room.

The night crawled by. Joe could hardly take his eyes off of Three, who was almost immediately in REM sleep. His own lack of sleep was taking its toll. His head ached, and coffee seemed to be of little help as the night wore on and he struggled to stay awake.

It was nearing two in the morning when Three began to thrash about, which usually didn’t happen in REM sleep. In REM sleep, the body had a safety mechanism that simulated paralysis to keep the dreamer from harming herself, and yet, impossibly, the EEG showed Three in REM sleep. She shoved back the blanket, pulled her pillow from under her head and thrust it between her legs.

Carefully Joe turned on the microphone to hear soft moans coming from three’s bed as her hips ground against the pillow. He felt his cock tighten as he watched, and he carefully released it into his hand. Her moans became kitten-like whimpers until at last, she sat up and tossed the pillow on the floor with such force that Joe was certain she was awake. The EEG read otherwise. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed looking around the darkened room. Joe held his breath as she lifted her bottom and slipped out of her panties. Then she opened her legs. One hand worked frantically between her pussy lips while the other cupped her breasts through the nightie. Clearly frustrated, she fumbled through the few items on the nightstand, and for a second he thought she would wake Four, who was now snoring softly.

Finally she found what she was looking for, a hairbrush with a round wooden handle shaped almost like…

“Jesus,” Joe whispered, as she stuck the end of the hairbrush into her mouth and began to lick it and suck it as though it were a Popsicle … as though it were a cock. Through the microphone he could hear the wet sounds of her saliva, now dripping from her chin as she pulled the end of the brush from her lips. He knew what was would happen next, and it took all of his self control to keep from shooting his wad at the very thought.

He fumbled with the zoom, watching, holding his breath, as Three opened her engorged cunt with wet fingers and shifted her hips until the angle was just right. Then, with a catch of her breath that let him know just how good it felt, she eased the smooth wooden end of the brush, dripping with her saliva, between her pussy lips, which opened, yielded grudgingly and swallowed the handle to the hilt.

He pressed his thumb hard against the underside of the head of his cock and breathed deeply. Not yet! He couldn’t come just yet. He had to make it last.

She was now leaning back on the bed, her buttocks lifted completely off the mattress, supported by her heals as she thrust onto the handle with all her strength.

Joe held his breath, terrified she would wake the other sleepers. He should stop her. He didn’t want her to be caught in a humiliating situation. He should tuck his cock away and do something.

Three collapsed on her side with a moan that sounded more like frustration than satisfaction. Then she pulled the brush handle from her pussy, sat up and threw it as hard as she could across the room.

“Shit!” This time Joe cursed out loud. Fortunately the control room was sound proof. Amazingly, the sharp thwack of Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bthe brush against the wall woke no one. He heaved a sigh, but then caught his breath again. Was Three watching him? That was impossible. There were no windows in the control room, and yet, her gaze seemed locked on him. He glanced at the EEG. She was still in REM sleep. How could this be? Suddenly she sprang to her feet and ran out of the camera’s view. Frantically he tried to follow her across the bank of monitors, but she disappeared from sight. He was still squinting at the screens when the door to the control room burst open.

He made a futile attempt to shove his penis back into his trousers, but in the end could do no more than pull his lab coat across his lap. Before he could even turn in his chair, he could see three’s reflection in the monitors as she launched herself at him.

She grabbed the chair and turned him to face her with surprising strength, placing a hand on each arm so he was trapped. “Dr Nevins. Wake up,” She gasped. “You’re dreaming.”

He woke with a start to find Three shaking him. She growled her frustration and yanked the Portable EEG over her head, electrodes and all, slamming the whole apparatus down on the counter next to the monitors.

“Your dreams, I’m dreaming your dreams. Sexy dreams.” she gasped. “It’s always you watching in my dreams. And now I’m in yours. Please wake up. You’re frightening me.”

“Dear God, I was dreaming?” He tried to push her away, but he was at a distinct disadvantage in the chair with a debilitating hard-on and a scantily clad woman practically on top of him.

She nodded.

“And you?”

“I was dreaming too. I had a hairbrush and you were watching.”

He struggled to breath. “How can that be?”

“I don’t know.” she clawed at his lab coat until he could hold it no longer, and his erection was there for them both to see. “But we’re driving each other crazy. I need to come, and it’s clear you need to come too. That’s obvious in my dreams and yours too.” She bent and kissed him hard. “We can help each other.”

“I can’t.” He tried to push her away. “Don’t you understand? I can’t. I’m ethically bound to — ”

“Fuck your ethics. We’re not dreaming now. We’re wide awake.” Her voice was breathless as her hand strayed to his cock. “And we need each other.”

“Oh God,” he groaned, arching back in the chair. He felt her nails tear at his hands as he made one more weak attempt to push her away, which ended abruptly as she dropped onto her knees and took his cock into her mouth like she had done the brush handle. All the way to the hilt. All the way to his balls!

“Please. Fuck me,” she gasped as she pulled away.

He yielded, no longer able to deny what they both needed so desperately.

He never would have expected what she did next. Holding his gaze, she stood up, opened her pussy lips with one hand, then turned around and sat down on his lap. It was that simple. He found himself buried up to his balls in her tight, warm cunt, which grabbed his penis each time she shifted her hips, exactly like her mouth had done only seconds before.

“Jesus,” he gasped, struggling hard not to come just from the feel of her exquisite grip. “Ah, God. You’re sure we’re awake?”

She ground her ass hard against him. “Better than a dream, isn’t it?” She guided his hand over her soft pubic curls until his fingers came to rest against her pearl hard clit. “Touch me there.” She gave a whimper of pleasure. “That’s so good. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

He could smell the strong tidal scent of her arousal, and as he leaned forward to kiss her back, he caught the scent of sleep — warm, sweaty sleep, against her skin. The hand that wasn’t enthralled with her straining clitoris cupped and stroked the firm mounds of her breasts and thumb her distended nipples. He tried to tell himself he should stop. She was his subject, not his lover. But it didn’t matter, not as long as her cunt gripped his cock like a glove. In the bank of monitors, he watched his reflection fucking her, watched his fingers curling into her cunt.

“You’ve invaded my dreams, you’re always watching, always making me want you. And now you’re pulling me into your dreams. I don’t care, but don’t make me suffer.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose. I can’t help it,” he gasped, feeling her areola rise against his thumb.

“You can help it. Give me what I need. Do it now.” Then suddenly every muscle in her body tensed. Her pussy gripped his cock like a fist. He shoved his way out of the chair, still pounding into her, pushing her against the edge of the desk, kneading her bottom with each thrust as she strained back with all her strength, rocking her hips in a maddening rhythm. Each time she pushed back, his heavy balls felt like they would burst. How could he stand any more without completely exploding?

Suddenly she was growling like a wildcat, growling until surely her throat was raw, grunting and shoving until it was all he could do to hold onto her. Then she cried out, the tight clench of her orgasm sending him over the edge too, until he emptied his balls into her convulsing pussy for what seemed like half the night.

When he was finished coming, she reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out his handkerchief. He watched in fascination as she wiped his cock, then cleaned the folds of her pussy, while he admired the swollen deep well of her. At last she straightened her nightie and sat quietly while he reattached the electrodes and slipped the monitor back around her neck. Then she kissed him and returned to her bed. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

 

The next morning, the other subjects had gone by the time Three finished her journal. As she handed it to him, she spoke without preamble. “How is it possible for two people to share dreams, Doctor?”

He took the notebook. “I don’t know. In all my research on REM sleep, nothing like this has ever happened before. But what bothers me more than the dream sharing is what we did when we woke up.”

She blinked. “You didn’t want to fuck me?”

“Of course I did.” He spoke between barely parted lips. “But it’s one thing to dream about something. It’s another to act on it.”

The beautiful blush crawled up her cheeks.

“It’s unethical and unprofessional, what I did.”

She nodded. “It means I can’t continue on as a test subject. For that I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry that we had sex, and I don’t want you to be either. It was good.”

He looked down at his hands clasped over the journal and felt himself blush.

She took a step closer and touched his wrist. “I like you. I’m intrigued by the way you live in other people’s dreams, by the way you visited mine. Perhaps you’ve discovered something else that needs to be researched. Perhaps I’d be the perfect subject for such a study.” She brushed a warm lingering kiss across his lips. “Sex in the waking world beats the hell out of anything REM sleep can offer. Put that in your notes, Doctor.” She fled, leaving him holding the journal.

Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020            For a long moment he stood looking down at the only thing he had left of Three. Then slowly, he opened it to the cover page and caught his breath.

Yesterday in had contained only the words, Subject # 3. But today, beneath the number was the name, Nina Emerson, along with her phone number.

His heart skipped a beat as he remembered the feel of being inside her. He closed the journal and returned to his desk. Nina was right. They had discovered something that needed to be researched, something more intriguing than any study of the dream world. He would call her, invite her for a drink. That was a start. They could do the research together. For the first time in ages, he felt fully awake.

 

In The Flesh Part 16: Dark Paranormal Romance In Progress. Enjoy!

In the Flesh 11880534_1463650103936599_545702979581425574_nIn episode 16 of In The Flesh, whisked away from Chapel House by Michael and the mysterious Maggie, Susan finds herself tucked away in the High Fells of the Lake District, where help comes from an old friend — one not particularly happy to see Maggie, and the help he offers may be as bad as the problem itself.

Read! Enjoy! Spread the word!

In the Flesh  is very dark paranormal erotica. When Susan Innes comes to visit her friend, Annie Rivers, in Chapel House, the deconsecrated church that Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend changed, reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover whom she claims is god. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human, and even worse, he’s turned his wandering eye on Susan, and he won’t be denied his prize. If Susan is to fight an inhuman stalker intent on having her as his own, she’ll need a little inhuman help.

 

To read the story in its entirety up to this point, follow these links to  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13, Part 14, Part 15.

 

Chapter 16

It was deep night when I woke up with my heart hammering in my chest. I was groggy, disoriented and completely naked. It took me a few seconds to convince myself that I was no longer in the crypt at Chapel House. Then I recalled the events of the past – what was it anyway, twelve hours? Twenty-four hours? Maybe more. I remembered Michael quite literally carrying me away from Chapel House. I remembered Annie’s screams, and I remembered waking up in the arms of some man named Alonso, who clearly wasn’t happy at having unexpected guests in the middle of the night … or at least I thought it had been night. Nothing was very clear to me at the moment. The past few days were an insane blur that I still hoped against hope to wake up from and find it had all been just a bad dream.

Once my eyes had adjusted to the ambient light, the room was far from dark. The heavily carved wooden bed I was in looked ancient and battered. Next to the bed a trunk, no less battered, served as a bedside table, with a bare-bulbed lamp on top, cord disappearing over the edge into the dark. The other furnishings in the room looked to be a double-doored wardrobe and more trunks, lots more trunks and wooden crates. Clearly the room had been thrown together in a hurry to accommodate me, though as I turned onto my side it was easy to feel that the sheets and bedding were not only clean, but of the highest quality, possibly even brand new. The bed faced a large curtainless window, which opened to the night, to the light coming from the waning moon and the star-filled sky.

Without turning on the lamp, I stood and moved to the window, nearly tripping over my bag, which I had no memory of Michael grabbing before sweeping me away, but then I had not much memory of anything but fear and lust and anger. There was quite a bit of anger thrown into the pot when I found out Michael had kept the truth from me. The thing was, I had no memory of the truth myself. Could everyone be lying to me? None of it made sense. How could I have ever released a demon spirit from his prison beneath the crypt of Chapel House and set Him loose on my friend with the plan of returning to claim Him as my lover? I was a lot of things, and like most writers, I had a fair-sized streak of self-absorption, but I wasn’t vicious or cruel, and I considered myself a fairly decent human being in spite of all my neuroses and foibles. Of the two of us, Annie had always been far more self-absorbed, and I figured that was a part of her gift, a part of what made her as successful as she was. Not that I wasn’t successful, but my idea of success was quite different from hers.

As I moved toward the window, I had an overwhelming need to breath fresh air and was surprised to find that though the glass in the window itself seemed ancient, it opened with very little effort on my part. The air was that of high places, bracing and sweet, cold enough to raise chill bumps across my bare arms and delicious enough that I was reluctant to shut out the chill. After inhaling several lungsful of the intoxicating fell air and gazing up at more stars than I had any idea could be in a night sky, I made a more coherent effort to take in my surroundings. The bare slate floors were covered with a path of what looked to be very old Turkish carpets that ran from the bed to the window, in front of the wardrobe, and then to a door across the room, behind which I discovered a well-equipped bathroom – far more modern and luxurious than the rest of the room. I splashed my face with cold water, ignoring the urge to have a wallow in a very large claw-footed tub. From somewhere in the house, I heard the sound of voices, or thought I did anyway. I found my clothes neatly folded on a large trunk at the foot of the bed and slipped into them, now shivering from the cold breeze coming in the window I was not yet willing to shut. If someone was up in the house, perhaps they could answer some of my questions. Would Michael be here? What about this Maggie woman? Oh, I had a thing or two I wanted to say to her alright, don’t think I didn’t!

I pushed open the door that looked new and unvarnished and, on tiptoes, made my way down a long hall, my 2015-06-24 12.46.27feet silent on the slate floor. The place was not totally unlike the crypt at Chapel House, the walls were bare stone and the windows along one side were deep as though they belonged in some Medieval castle, and certainly the view out the window from my bedroom had done little to diminish that notion. I half expected the staircase to be narrow and winding down the inside of a tower, but I didn’t make it to the stairs, wherever they were. Just down the hall next to my room, a set of open French doors led into a darkened study. There was an open set of identical doors across the room, which led out onto a balcony. It was from there I heard voices carrying on the night air from down below. I couldn’t make out the conversation, but I did make out my name, so I eased my way across the room and out onto the balcony. Below, I could see a narrowly terraced garden above a beck running steeply down the hunched back of the fell. In the garden on a stone bench sat two men in quiet conversation. Neither of them was Michael, but I recognized the bigger of the two as Alonso. He sat with his arm around the shoulder of the other. The tone of their speech was soft and conversational, and I leaned forward over the stone railing holding my breath to hear something, anything that might give me a clue as to what was going on and where I was. Alonso was speaking to his companion, who offered a soft laugh at whatever the man had said. It was as Alonso slid his hand down the man’s back to rest low on his hips and drew him close that I realized what I was watching, what I was listening to, had become intimate and no longer had anything to do with me. Just as I turned to go back into the study and back to my room, Alonso pivoted on the bench and looked up at me. I swallowed back a yelp, and stumbled away from the railing, not terribly subtle, but it was dark, and I’d managed neither to fall nor cry out. I certainly had done nothing wrong. The doors to the study had been open and inviting. If Alonso had not wanted me there, all he would have had to do was close the door. But then again, supposedly I was notorious for opening doors not meant to be opened.

I made it halfway across the study, heading back to my room when Alonso’s large form blocked the door in front of me, and this time I did yelp.

His full lips twisted in a wicked smile, then he offered me a very formal bow. “Alonso Darlington, at your service, Madame.” The man was not quite as big as Michael – nearly as tall, but of a more slender build. Still, he gave the illusion that he was much larger than even the angel. “I’m sorry for startling you, Ms. Innes. I forget sometimes to make noise when I approach. I have startled Reese terribly more times than I care to admit. Though the other members of my staff and my colleagues are used to my … unusual ways, for Reese’s sake, I truly am trying.”

It wasn’t so much his silence as it was his speed that startled me. No human could have moved from the garden below so quickly. “Reese is the one you were with?” I asked, steadying myself on the edge of a large antique desk that dominated the room, willing my pulse to slow to a gallop. If this Alonso wasn’t human, the last thing I wanted was to anger him by saying the wrong thing.

“The one you saw me with.” His face lit with a smile that I knew full well was reserved for thoughts of one’s lover. “Yes, that’s Reese.”

“I … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You intrusion, my dear, is hardly your fault, and I do apologize for the state of the room you have been forced to endure. High View is being renovated at the moment, and we are in a shambles. And of course, I’m deeply sorry for my less than cordial welcome.”

“You don’t like Maggie, whoever the hell she is. I got that. Frankly, I don’t like her very much either, so no need to apologize.”

“It isn’t so much that I don’t like her. I have a great deal of respect for the woman, and in truth, I owe her much.” He moved to stand next to me, and I could feel him studying me, but looking into his eyes made me feel ever so slightly off balance, so I looked away, taking in the surroundings of what was not a study at all, but a lovely library that would have fit right into any stately home I’d ever toured. “It’s just that whenever Magda shows up, things get more complicated than I’d like them to be, and I try very hard to keep things simple and to not draw attention to myself.” As if he anticipated my next questions, he added. “Your friend is sleeping peacefully. Magda and your angel are with her at the moment.”

“He’s not my angel,” I snapped.

Alonso offered a low, throaty chuckle. “Oh I think that he is, my dear.” Before I could protest, he pulled an iPhone from the pocket of his black jeans, punched in a number and waited for a second, then I heard a woman answer.

He offered me a quick, reassuring smile that was nearly as hypnotic as my first glance into his eyes. “Talia, darling, if you’re finished, our guest is awake and we have need of you in the library.” He returned the cell phone to his pocket and motioned me to the leather sofa in front of his desk. I happily obliged, my legs still feeling none to steady. “You must be hungry. I’ve had Cook prepare something for you, figuring that the monstrosity who held you prisoner would have had little forethought for your creature comfort.” Then he added, “no doubt your angel has encouraged you to eat. Food is always essential in the presence of magic or one can find oneself in serious trouble.”

I didn’t bother to tell Alonso that the monstrosity he referred to had, indeed seen to my creature comfort, though I had no idea how long ago it had been. It bothered me that I found myself wanting to defend Him.

Alonso sat on the edge of the desk and crossed his legs at the ankles. I noticed he wore scuffed hiking boots, but then that was to be expected in the fells. “You say you have no memory of releasing this … entity into the world?”

“I have … sketchy recollections of dreams I had that night, the night it must have happened, but honestly, I Bernini Hades and Persephone close uptumblr_lg4h59T3z31qe2nvuo1_500don’t know how I could have done such a thing. I couldn’t even find my way around the shamble of a garden at Chapel House, and I had no idea where the key was to the place where He was apparently kept prisoner. I seriously doubt if Annie did either.”

“He … yes, well it would have been easy enough for him to guide you and for him to give you the location of the key if a physical key were necessary. I’m inclined, however, to believe that the key was magical, and you, being a Scribe, would indeed have the imagination to figure out what was needed to release … him.”

“But why would I do that? Why?” I asked.

Almost before I knew he had moved, Alonso sat next to me and took my hand into his, which was large, slightly calloused and cold. My first urge at the rush of current up through my arm and straight to my heart was to pull away, but his grip was firm, and I was afraid to move, feeling like a rabbit in the headlights. Then he spoke, and I found myself relaxing into the hypnotic lilt of his voice, with its slightly strange accent and its deep-chested baritone. “For the love of your craft, Ms. Innes, for the love of your craft is reason enough. Surely you know that by now.” He stroked the back of my hand with his thumb, and I found myself calming still further. “Were you not inspired by the crypt at Chapel House, by the tangle of the garden, by the fact that it was once holy ground? I’m certainly no writer, and yet such places stimulate my imagination. Do you not think that such an entity as the one you’ve released would have recognized your urge to tell a story, your imagination so stimulated and taken advantage if it were at all possible.” Then he leaned close, holding my gaze, and I felt as though I were falling. “Does not the Bible itself say that ‘the word became flesh and dwelt among us, that the word is living and active and sharper than any double edged sword?’ Words have power, my dear woman, power that nothing else in the history of human culture, nothing else in the history of our human nature have. The storytellers of old were revered. They sat in the presence of kings and queens as their equals.” With a sweeping gesture, he took in the bookshelves that rose from floor to ceiling all around us. “Some of the words in this room were written thousands of years ago, those who penned them have long ago turned to dust, and yet we read their words, their stories, and we’re transported, at times transformed by the minds of men and women long dead. Surely you don’t think that an entity who has existed as long as the one connected to Chapel House would not know this, would not seize the opportunity to take advantage of the magic of the mind of a Scribe and the stories she can create?”

“But it was never my intention. I didn’t mean to. I only … We were drunk, excited about Annie’s new home. We were celebrating, telling stories. I …”

Alonso smoothed the hair away from my face and held my gaze. “You underestimate the power of your magic. I understand my darling. You’re not the first Scribe to have done so, nor are you the first to have paid a high price for such a mistake. You’re among the greats in that.” He glanced around the room at the myriad books, and then offered me a reassuring smile. “Never mind. First you must eat, and then we shall see what we can do to aid your memory.”

Almost if by magic, a man dressed in full livery arrived with a silver tray and sat it on a table near the window. Alonso took my hand and guided me to sit in front of eggs, toast and porridge all washed down by rich dark French roast coffee. He watched me eat silently making no effort to join me. But then it was the middle of the night.

I had just finished the last of the toast with homemade raspberry jam when a tall woman in a form-fitting turquoise dress knocked softly on the open door and let herself in. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was — well for lack of a better word, she was beautiful. She had dark, thick hair, startling blue eyes, and she had that way about her that made more ordinary people, myself included, want to be close to her so that they could look at her, just constantly look at her because surely this kind of beauty couldn’t be real. Then I was reminded of Alonso’s sudden movement, of his all but admitting he wasn’t human, and I suddenly wasn’t so sure about the woman either.

Alonso stood and embraced her, kissing her on the cheek. The two mumbled softly for a few seconds, glancing dark moon image_xl_6338206occasionally over their shoulders at me. Then he took her hand and led her forward. “Ms Innes, I’d like you to meet Talia. She’s a colleague and a dear friend of mine. She knows your problem and recovering lost memories and understanding people’s dreams is her specialty.” He shrugged. “Well, one of them, anyway.”

The woman studied me for a second, then smiled and nodded her greeting. I seemed incapable of doing anything more than smiling and nodding back.

“Now that introductions have been made,” I forced my gaze away form her and back to Alonso, “if you’ve had enough to eat, me dear Ms. Innes, and you’re ready, Talia is going to sleep with you.”

 

Vintage Grace: Wet Dreams Part 1 FREE STORY

Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020

WARNING! This story contains ADULT CONTENT!

Summer is almost over, but I like to keep the sizzle going as long as possible, keeping that in mind, I thought I’d make this a story sort of weekend and prime you for the next instalment of IN THE FLESH with something really filthy vintage K D Grace. Wet Dreams is one of the first stories I had published and, like a lot of my early stories, WET DREAMS is very filthy and not for the faint of heart. It is erotica … XXX all the way.  As some of you are aware of my attitude about condoms in erotica, especially when it’s very strictly fantasy, be warned, even without a condom, this story is safe sex because IT IS FICTION! Please enjoy it for what it is.

Part 2 will be up next week. 

 

 

Dr. Joe Nevins jerked to wakefulness nearly falling off the control room chair. He yawned, rubbed his burning eyes and returned his attention to the bank of monitors, which were attached to cameras designed for low light and placed strategically about the sleep room. Almost all of the test subjects under the camera’s watchful eye were in REM sleep. The stuff dreams are made of, he thought. He could tell by the EEG of their brain waves and by the rapid movement of their eyes beneath closed lids that they were dreaming. He wished he could join them. The early hours of the morning were always the hardest, the time when he was completely alone, the only waking soul in a world of dreamers, longing to share in their slumbers.

At six thirty in the morning, the alarm would go off; everyone would rise, write down what they remembered of their dreams and return to life in the waking world.

Life in the waking world — not something a sleep researcher saw an awful lot of, Joe thought morosely. Once his subjects left, he reviewed their dream journals, correlated his data and made notes. Then he tried to catch a few hours of REM sleep himself, though it was never enough. When he was working with a test group, he seldom left the facility. It had everything his apartment had, plus state of the art equipment. Hopefully these test subjects and one more batch would give him a large enough sample to prove the validity of his data.

He yawned again and his head fell to his chest. Somehow attempting to study dreams from the waking world seemed fundamentally wrong at this hour. Movement on one of the monitors caught his eye. Subject number three was sitting on the edge of her bed. It wasn’t unusual for subjects to wake in the night. Portable EEGs made it possible for them to visit the bathroom, get a drink of water, or even have a midnight snack in the canteen next door. The facility was designed to allow subjects to emulate their normal sleep patterns.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes again to make sure, but subject number three was definitely standing by the side of her bed unbuttoning her nightie. He nearly fell off his chair as the woman, who looked to be in her late twenties with short dark hair and lovely cheekbones, shoved the nightie off her shoulders and began to caress her breasts. They were small firm breasts with large dark nipples, growing larger as she rolled them between her thumbs and forefingers.

Her EEG seemed to be malfunctioning, but adjusting its monitor didn’t help. He switched on the microphone, allowing him to hear sounds coming from the sleep room. There was the usual mix of deep breathing and light snoring along with the soft moans of subject three. One hand left the caressing of her breasts and snaked down her belly to shove aside the nightie. With little grunts of frustration, she wriggled out of miniscule panties, and her hand went to work between her legs.

There were no sleep disorders among the test subjects, he’d made certain of that. Surely the woman was awake. But another glance at the EEG proved inconclusive. The front of Joe’s trousers pressed hard against his expanding cock. Damn it! He wasn’t a sex crazed teenager jacking off to women’s underwear ads. He was a scientist doing important research, research that could improve people’s lives, research that could…

Suddenly Subject Three slipped under the blankets with the woman in the next bed. Joe held his breath.

“What the? What’s going …,” subject four mumbled, waking up.

Three stopped her words with a deep kiss involving plenty of tongue. For a tense second, Joe feared the two women would wake up the rest of his subjects, but as Three pulled away, she placed a silencing finger to her lips. Four seemed happy to comply. Three’s EEG was completely off line now, yet everyone else’s was functioning perfectly.

She pushed up Four’s night shirt to reveal large breasts, expansive areole rising and falling with the woman’s accelerated breathing. Then she suckled and kneaded her way into Four’s deep cleavage, flicking a pink tongue over the contours like a cat licking a kitten.

Joe fumbled with the controls, zooming in on Three’s tongue, on Four’s heavy breasts, on Three’s hand slipping into Four’s panties.

“Come for me,” Three whispered as she pulled away from Four’s engorged nipple to kiss her ear. “Please come for me.” Then there was only the sound of heavy breathing and muffled moans. And the sound of a zipper.

dark moon image_xl_6338206It took Joe a second to realize the zipper was that of his own fly, which he had opened to give his expanding cock some relief. Easing his penis free, he stifled a groan as his fingers closed around his growing girth. My God, he really was like a teenager.

“Let me see you. Let me look at you down there.” Three pealed the panties over Four’s full hips and ample buttocks. This time, Joe got the zoom just right. Four’s vulva filled the monitor as she shifted, opening her legs to reveal a well trimmed pubis with thick, swollen lips, open and responsive to Three’s exploring fingers. Three whimpered softly, then lowered her head. And suddenly it was Three’s vulva and her whole heart-shaped bottom that filled the monitor as she positioned herself on hands and knees, nightie shoved high over her hips, ass raised like a bitch in heat. She licked Four’s cunt in long lingering slurps, pausing to suckle and nip at her clit.

Joe watched in fascination as Three wriggle two deft fingers into her own swollen slit, and the wet, slippery sounds of pleasure filled the sleep room. With each stroke of his cock, he imagined his erection replacing Three’s fingers, thrusting in and out of that exquisite grip. The weight of his engorged balls shifted heavily in the cupping caress of one hand. This was so wrong. But the thought of his bad behavior only served to make his cock stiffer, make him pump even harder, until his muscles ached and tensed, and his buttocks clenched tighter with each thrust.

Orgasm began as a ripple up Four’s body. The ripple erupted into a spasm, and Four gasped and bucked against Three’s insinuating tongue, struggling not to wake the other sleepers. Then Three gave a little sigh and collapsed on top of her, Four’s moisture still glistening on her mouth and chin. “You came?” She whispered, stroking Four’s nipples.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad.” She kissed the other woman’s breasts in turn then went to her own bed, stopping to slip into her panties, giving Joe one last glistening view of her cunt.

He awoke, cock in hand, with just enough time to pull out his handkerchief before he squirted it full. He thought he’d never stop coming, his cock convulsing again and again into soft white cotton. As the pheromonal tang of ejaculate and male sweat displaced the disinfectant smell of the control room, he collapsed in the chair feeling a strange combination of confusion and post coital drowsiness. What the hell happened?

A quick look at the monitor and the perfectly functioning EEG revealed that both women were in their own beds, both in REM sleep. A glance at the clock told him he had only just dozed briefly, and yet it had been enough for him to dream vividly, extricate his cock from his trousers and come. How could this be? He knew he was under slept, but even when he wasn’t, he seldom remembered his dreams. Strange that, considering he made his living studying dreams.

 

Dream Journal

Subject # 3

February 18

I’m with a woman I don’t know. We are admiring each other’s tits. Hers are big and heavy. She agrees to let me touch
hers if she can touch mine. Then we’re at my house, in my bed. We take off our tops. She’s wearing a black lace bra that caresses and cups her deep cleavage. She lets me take it off her. I’m astounded at how full she is, how swollen her nipples are. I’m sucking her like she’s somebody’s yummy mummy, whose engorged titties need to be nursed on. Her hand is in my panties fingering my fat, slippery cunt. Just when it’s getting good, we realize there’s a man watching us. He’s stroking his cock hard, about to ejaculate.

Then I’m in a park walking. I see a woman sitting on a bench masturbating. She has her skirt up. I can see her pussy. It’s such a beautiful pussy, it’s nice and hairy — I like hairy cunts — with big dark lips all wet and pouting. She’s crying. I ask her what’s wrong. She says she needs to come so badly that her pussy hurts. She asks me if I’ll help her. Then we’re lying on the grass and I’m licking her pussy. She’s sweet and salty and so turned on that her tight quinny kisses me back while I tongue her. She’s moaning and bucking against my mouth, telling me she’s about to come. My own pussy aches too, and I’m suddenly desperate to orgasm.

The man is watching us again. It’s like he’s everywhere. He sees everything. He has his cock out, and his balls are so full. I want to watch him, I want him to watch me, so I start playing with my own cunt, while I lick. He pumps his cock harder and harder until it erupts like a fountain, and he keeps coming and coming, like he’ll never stop.

I woke up feeling horny.

 

Breathing hard, Joe put down the journal and quick-stepped to the bathroom in the back of his office. Standing over the toilet, he fumbled with his fly, feeling a quiver down his spine at the freeing of his cock. In one hand he cupped balls that felt like they were loaded with lead and with the other, he stroked the thick length of his erection hard and fast, only a half a dozen strokes or so. That was all he needed after reading Three’s journal. There was no making it last. He came in great shuddering spasms, grunting hard with the intensity of his release.

When he could breathe again, when his balls were well emptied and his cock was more manageable, he tucked himself in and went back to work. Dream journals were confidential. The subjects were asked to write in present tense with no comments. At the end of each entry, they wrote a sentence or two about how they felt that morning. Before now none of the dreams had been blatantly sexual. There were the expected scenarios of being caught in the office naked, or being caught taking a dump in public. But Joe knew that people in general weren’t very good at telling the truth. Three was brave to be so honest.

A look at subject four’s journal revealed only a short ‘late for work’ dream.

Nothing had happened between the two women. The EEGs were proof. Yet how could Three’s dream be so similar to his?

From the files, he looked through the extensive questionnaire Three had filled out her first day. There was nothing out Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bof the ordinary. In fact he had chosen subjects particularly for their normal sleep patterns. A look at Three’s EEGs revealed normal REM sleep cycles, as he would have expected. That meant the only person with unusual sleep patterns was him.

He half hoped that when he made it to bed mid afternoon, he’d dream about Three again. Normally he didn’t want to know his subjects’ names. The less he knew the better. Still he couldn’t help thinking it would be nice to call her name in his dreams just before he made her come, just before he came inside her. But he hadn’t managed to get to sleep that afternoon. There was too much to do.

Tune in for the conclusion of Wet Dreams next week!

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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