Thursday 10 September 2009

The Forest [erotic fiction]

ittle echoes of vibration bring me back to life. The splash of water, dripping, is too quiet to be heard, but it makes a loud absence of sound in the background noise of leaves rustling, wind gusting and rattling, the little sounds of night and darkness and forest green. I smell iron, old iron and rust, and explore with my fingers in the black and white night vision before me. The musky, dank and fertile smell of woodland in summer rain, tells me where I am, but I don't know why I'm there. I run my hand up the bars of a cage which reaches just over my head as I crouch, touching and reaching and checking for gaps, checking for a way out, as I feel the rise of some burning kind of emotion inside me…burning bright and angry and lighting up the night-time; shading everything in red.

The feeling detonates into action and I rise up, pounding, hitting, smacking and a storm of sobbing pours onto the iron cage which falls to pieces, swept away by the passion, the ocean of tears inside me. I feel blood curling round my arms like serpents, my fingers are sore and splintered, my feet cut and torn from metal and wood. I run, gasping, without thought for being seen, for keeping hidden, terrified and furious and confused and hurt, my feet no longer painful, adrenaline surging, my heart pounding…running, running away…then I stop.

He is standing in the clearing, smiling. He knew which way I would run. His face is amused, his legs are comfortably spread apart, his hands loosely holding the cane. Dressed in black, yet still he stands out from the darkness surrounding him. I am spellbound, clumsy. He is balanced, poised.

Her hand on my shoulder; I don't move, only let out a sharp gasp of breath. I don't turn to face her, but feel her lift my hair and kiss my neck. She kicks my legs from underneath me and I fall to the ground, but land softly, turned so that I am lying under her. Suddenly my head is in his lap, cushioned on his legs. She holds my wrists pinned to the ground either side of his thighs. I feel my pulse, hard and thunderous, matching hers. Her desire rises, I feel it with my body. Her lips on mine, my mouth to hers, kiss to kiss, womb to womb. She turns me over, she is clothed and I am not. Her fingers are inside me, dancing, I whimper for her, making little sounds of pain and pleasure. She pulls my arm behind me to breaking point, I am close to screaming.

My face is between his thighs, he opens my mouth with his fingers and pushes his cock inside, down, above me. He forces my head closer to his skin, I take him in until I am breathing his scent, I gag but he draws me closer with his hands in my hair, nearly ripping it out at the roots. As he fills my mouth, she fills my pussy, replacing fingers with the hard feel of glass; inhuman but I feel the still pulse of it, inside me, unable to tell where my body ends and it begins, I want to beg but I cannot speak, there is no room for words, only sensation. I tremble, I scream wordlessly around the thick cock pounding into my throat, then it is withdrawn and I mourn the loss. The object inside me is withdrawn also, and once again I am turned, pulled over her lap as she slides gentle, teasing fingers over my buttocks and pats me, strokes me, smacking into me, hurting me. She slaps and beats at me until I am red and glowing, then stands and pulls on her cock made of glass, strapped to her.

She pulls me down with her back to the earth so I am lying above her, her cock in my pussy, and he takes my ass. I am between them, and they meet in a union of rhythm as I am transformed into something molten and pliable and yielding. They come together, soundlessly, as I give in to need and throw my head back, crying.