Hi there y'all! Hope everyone is keeping Hot and Horny as summer sadly wains away!
This week, just to help keep the heat levels rising, I have selected a snippet from my occult WIP The Queen of Storms. This is one of the stories from my Tarot of the Acolyte series of paranormal erotica, where each tale revolves around a specific Tarot card. The premise of the Tarot of the Acolyte tales is that, as the deck moves from person to person, each new owner must undergo an erotic, and often (but not always) horrific, rite of passage based on the card they become obsessed with, where success means they keep control of the power of the deck, and failure means they succumb to the deviant sexual wiles of the gods, demons, wizards, witches, and mythical beasts and monsters that prowl these cards!
In the Queen of Storms, the Queen on the card is the beautiful but deadly Sidhe Witch-Queen Sín (pronounced 'Sheen', her name means 'Storm'), infamous in ancient Irish Celtic myth as the irresistible temptress who caused the Threefold Death of Muirchertac Mac Erca, High King of Ireland. In our tale, her beauty has enchanted erstwhile Tarot dabbler Gerry O'Keith, whose Irish ancestry has left him susceptible to her Sidhe wizardry! Tormented by erotic visions across night- and day-dreams, he has been lured on a dark, stormy night into her thorny forest lair, and, torn and trapped, he is held ensnared while she has her wicked way with him...
* * * * * * *
"And what is
it we have here, my little ones?"
Despite the howling of the wind and the splashing of the rain against
the leaves and branches, her voice rang clearly across the space between them,
its strong lilt tripping merrily into his heart. He struggled to break free of the thorns and
branches that held him fast, trying to get closer to her, but the effort only
drove the spikes deeper into the flesh of his naked arms and legs. Ceasing his struggles, he hung there like a
giant fly caught in some monstrous web, waiting for the spider to deliver her
coup de grais.
She watched in
amusement as he gave up resisting, then stepped closer to him, inspecting the
punctures in his flesh, while he took in every detail of her beauty, comparing
it to the figure on the Tarot card , and finding the card wanting. Even as the wind continued to thrash the
trees around them, and the rain kept up its onslaught against everything in
its path, including Gerry, she stood before him untouched by any elemental
force, her blue eyes glowing with an unearthly passion, her raven-black hair
swaying gently over her shoulder as she moved, her pale, silken skin as dry as
a warm summer breeze. He swallowed hard
as his eyes dropped to the proud cleavage of her breasts, white and firm in the
tightly laced green linen bodice, which was decorated with symbols and words in
a language he did not recognize. As with
the image on the card, her nipples rose through the fabric, hard and enticing,
showing her arousal, and she smiled inwardly as she saw his exposed manhood
twitch in response to the vision before him.
"To be
sure," she said, taking a step back from him, "they have you true and
fast, sir." She turned to walk
away, as if her interest in the captive had faded, but she stopped when he
spoke to her.
"Help
me," was all he said, quietly. She
turned and looked coquetishly at his face.
"Is it help
you be wanting, sir?" she asked ingenuously, stepping back towards
him. "And why would I want to be
helping you, sir, after your chasing of me so rudely through the forest? Seems it's not safe for a maiden out and
about these days."
"I couldn't
help myself," Gerry replied weakly.
"I had to see if you were as beautiful as the woman on the Tarot
card. And I wanted to talk with
you."
"Talk is
it, sir? But I see more than talk in
those eyes of yours, don't I?" She
stepped right up to his transfixed body and, gently lifting his chin with her
hand, stared deeply into his eyes, the gold flecks in her sapphire blues echoing
the colours on the backs of the cards. Her hand was warm and soft, with an underlying
strength he could feel as she held his jaw.
"Who are
you?" he asked, unable to contain the passion he felt, his hardness
growing despite the chilling wind and rain.
"Who am I
is it now?" she responded. "I think
you have more pressing things to think on, sir, than what my name might
be. For instance, you ask me for help,
but what would you have in the way of payment for such assistance? And, supposing you had the payment, why would
I be freeing you to chase me again through the woodland?" She dropped his jaw, and he struggled again
to free himself, to no avail. His skin
burned with a fire of passion where she had touched him, and he already longed
to feel the heat of her hand again.
"Whatever
you want, if I have it, I will give it to you for your help, and your
company."
She laughed
merrily at his offer, her eyes flashing, but whether with mirth or anger, he
could not tell.
"My help,
my name, and my company, is it now? A
man should be careful what it is he asks for, as the price may be too much for
his purse. And a threefold ask is the
most expensive of all!"
She stepped
closer to him, close enough so he could feel the heat from her body as he
struggled to touch her, close enough so he could smell her scent saturating the
air around him, fresh and lively and stimulating, and, raising her hand, she
gently cupped the coldness of his cheek.
Instantly heat surged through his body and into his limbs, and he closed
his eyes in pleasure as he felt his arousal growing from her touch. He turned his head in an attempt to kiss her
fingers, but she laughed gently as she dropped them to trace a pointed,
blood-red fingernail along the length of his torso, sending rays of stimulation
pounding through him, and driving a groan from his lips.
“My, my, sir,”
she said, a huskiness filling her voice as she watched his erection thicken and
rise. “I suppose there may be other ways
a man could pay for services rendered.
Her finger traced along the length of his twitching cock, across the
dark veins engorged with blood, causing him to writhe in anticipation, while
his mind reeled in disbelief at his apparent good fortune, and his eyes
devoured her unearthly beauty. Then his
body shuddered as she wrapped her hand around the base of his thick, throbbing prick
and slowly pulled it along its length, the strength of her fingers rippling
along the smoothness of his skin
“And are you
prepared to pay me what I ask from you, sir?” she asked, pulling her hand back
and forth along the swollen length of his burning hardness. He opened his eyes and gazed with unadorned
passion deep into hers.
“Anything I have
that you want is yours,” he said thickly, his throat tight with need, the pain
from the myriad of thorns and branches holding him forgotten, as the heat from
her hand radiated along his cock and out into the depths of his balls and body. Her blood-red lips parted in a wonderful,
heart-piercing smile, showing two rows of even, white teeth, and her dexterous
tongue ran lightly over her lips, leaving a sheen of moisture on their redness.
“Then you’ll not
mind if I help myself, then, sir?” she asked.
* * * * * * *
Looks like Gerry is about to receive everything he desires, but maybe - just maybe - he should beware of the thorns that always accompany beautiful roses! :)
This WIP is almost ready for publication, and I am targetting a Hallowe'en launch date (of course! :), so if you'd like a preview copy, leave me a comment below, and I'll select a few lucky readers for the ARC distribution!
Let's continue to enjoy Summer while it lasts, my friends!
Love,
Ashen
