From Drawn to Darkness, Five Short Tales of Dark Romance and Erotic Horror, by Chew Toy. Copyright 2012. Read the rest on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B8BA24Y
Sylvia was eighteen when she left to hear the harpies.
Officially they didn’t exist—or, depending on which official story you listened to, they had existed but were gone now, eradicated by the brave steely-eyed officers of the civil defense force, armed with floodlights and shotguns and very, very good earplugs—but everyone knew where they were. It was why the city didn’t have a homeless problem anymore. Which, of course, was why in reality the city officials left the last remaining ones, the tough and clever and well-hidden ones, alone.
If you were so down on your luck that huddling on a heating grate seemed like a good option, there was always a more attractive one. An evening of bliss, listening to the most beautiful music the mind could imagine conceiving… and then no troubles at all, ever again.
It was a kinder, gentler way, the more honest of the city fathers might say off the record, if you got them very drunk.
They didn’t mention, of course, that while it was an option that you could choose when all else was falling apart, it was also an option that could choose you. There were still homeless people, a few, banded together in an enclave they called the Anti-Harpy Protection Squad. But they stayed very well hidden, so the police left them alone. And they still got picked off one by one.
Sylvia had read everything that anyone had ever said, on or off the record, about the harpies.
Her parents had thought it was a way to cope with a chldhood boogeyman. Learn all you can about it, as a way of controlling your fear. Knowlege is power, and things we know are always less scary than the unknown.
She didn’t tell them it wasn’t fear.
For as long as Sylvia could remember, the thought of being controlled by something outside herself had held an irresistible fascination, which early in puberty she had finally realized was sexual. Thinking about being controlled got her off.
When she first heard about the harpies, that desire found an object.
She couldn’t remember how many times she had jilled off to the image of herself, hearing the harpies’ song and being irresistibly drawn to them, too fascinated to turn back even when she saw them. By most accounts they were hideous, ugly of face and sharp of claw, with dirty shit-smeared vultures’ bodies and the heads and large, sagging breasts of gap-toothed and cruel old women. Though in her fantasies there was generally something compellingly beautiful about them, and they were cleaner. She would think she should be terrified, but be unable to reach the thought, watching outside herself as she walked zombie-like into their clutches, offering herself up to them. In her fantasies, they let her suck on their nipples before tearing her apart with their huge sharp claws.
When she wasn’t just making pictures in her head she was watching popular media portrayals of them—they were more popular than sharks as a cinematic way to die now, with even some soap-operas having a character wander into the bad part of town and hear the song, only to be rescued by some fortunate event.
Everybody wants to hear the harpies’ song, but no-one wants to die.
There was one recording of a bit of their song that she had been able to find. They were generally restricted, classified, contraband. It wasn’t nearly as compelling in a recording as in real life, she had read… but Sylvia knew that if she ever listened to it on something she could carry with her, something with headphones, she would just put it on a loop and go to them, still listening, until she could hear the real thing. She had had to eliminate all portable music players from the house (her parents didn’t listen to music much anyway), after the one scare she had with that.
Thinking about buying a portable music player next time, or just going to them without even needing it, made her cum every time, when she masturbated. It was her favorite thing to listen to.
But finally her obsession came to a head. She needed to seek them out, and do something. She needed to serve them. Somehow.
Probably, they would just tear her apart for their next meal. She actually came thinking about that, when she considered it. About how it would be their choice and not hers.
But she hoped there would be some way she could serve them even more. So she wrote a note, and taped it to her shirt, and went to see the harpies.
* * *
Once she got to the worst part of town, she relaxed. Not even muggers came down here. Not anymore.
It was possible to resist the song, when it was faint. So a few people had still used this area—some had even lived here—for a while. But over time, it got inside you. Sylvia knew that she would never be able to resist, even if she’d wanted to—she had listened to that recording so many times, had trained her body even beyond the song’s effects that listening to it meant coming. She wasn’t sure if all her friends had jilled off to the mixed version she’d made (she knew at least one had), but she didn’t think they would ever be able to resist either.
* * *
They were in the tunnels under the city now, but the harpy’s aerie was still atop a low wall, and the creature let her climb. Which she did, happily, joyfully. Her shoes were wet from wading across the foot-deep water in front of the wall, and her breath was ragged from running, but she knew this was the only thing that had ever mattered to her, and she didn’t care whether it was the perfect pure voice of the angel atop the wall that told her that or her own years of lustful fantasies. This was here, and now, and right.
The first thing she noticed, when she reached the top of the wall, was how clean the nest was. It was a broad room-like indentation which might once have been intended as a control room or machine room over the tunnel below, now empty of furniture but filled with clean, sweet-smelling dried grasses covering the floor.
The second thing she noticed was how beautiful the harpy was.
Everything she had ever heard about their appearance was a lie. Well, the harpy was clearly half woman and half vulture. But the government and the police and the scientists and explorers must all have conspired to say that they were ugly, to make following their song sound less appealing. Her feathers were clean and neat and soft-looking and colored beautiful muted tones, and her face and breasts could have been on any magazine cover.
Or porn movie. This was already better than any of her fantasies. Sylvia hastily pulled herself into the room, noticing almost as an afterthought how extremely damp her panties were as her legs rubbed together.
“Hello, pretty morsel. Will you unwrap yourself for me? Oh! You have a note,” said the radiant creature.
Sylvia hastily pulled the note off her shirt and set it down in front of the harpy. She hadn’t known whether it would talk with her before eating her, or whether she would be able to talk; so she’d wanted to make her intentions clear. Then, when it looked briefly back up at her after glancing down at the paper, she started stripping, as lustily and demonstratively as she could.
She had practiced this in the mirror at home. It was also part of her fantasies. She was pretty good at it.
The harpy eyed her with gratifying attention and hunger as she stripped, slowly making herself naked and ready for whatever it chose to do with her. Then, when she was fully undressed, it pointedly left her that way while it looked down and read what she had written.
All my life I have wanted to give myself to one of you. Please eat me if you choose, but if there is some other way I can serve you, please let me do that first.
The harpy sat back and looked at her. Sylvia, blushing deeply but full of the irresistible song and knowing more completely than she ever had before that this was right, looked at the ground and waited.
“Well,” the harpy finally said. “Do you know where little harpies come from?”
Sylvia stared, not sure what she was being asked.
The harpy lay back further, her head against the wall, and opened her wings. And her thighs. Sylvia could see, between those bird legs, where the feathers parted for a genital opening more like her own than a bird’s.
(She knew what vultures’ private parts looked like. She had needed to look that up. Sometimes, in her fantasies, the harpies’ looked like that too. But this… this was just like a human girl. This was like her. She wondered if it tasted like her…)
“Come here, girl, and kiss me. Everywhere. Make me like it.” The creature was smiling, the most inviting smile that Sylvia had ever seen. And telling her to do what she had always longed for. Almost not believing her luck, Sylvia knelt before it, and leaned forward for a kiss.
“My name is Mary,” said the harpy, and kissed her.
Sylvia had had one boyfriend, and a few shy kisses with girls… but this was nothing that could even compare. The fact that she was tenderly, passionately kissing the object of her years of fervent worship made the perfect physical sensations almost irrelevant, but her lips still tingled as the harpy—Mary—finally drew her head back with a sultry, amused smile, looked her in the eyes for a moment, and then leaned her head back, pointedly exposing her neck.
Sylvia took the cue. She planted a line of tiny, reverent kisses down that neck and just down to the erect nipple of one perfectly perky D-cup breast, getting more eager as Mary cooed (that sound! Sylvia forced herself to concentrate as her pussy clenched and shuddered just feeling that voice…), then across to the other nipple and then around each breast, across and between, following the angelic cries of pleasure that felt like they were inside her, finally nuzzling her hair against the soft feathers leading down the beautiful bird body and down to…
And now Sylvia was coming, openly, at the noises Mary was making as Sylvia worshipfully licked her luscious harpy cunt. Mary’s talons were scratching long bleeding lines along Sylvia’s arms as they thrashed in pleasure, and even the hot stinging pain of that felt good, and perfect, and right. Sylvia paused for a moment to lick two fingers, the way she herself liked, and slide them up inside Mary’s opening as she put her tongue back on the top and she was still coming from that sound and it made her touch faster and harder and somehow all her fingers were inside and it was the best thing she ever did, the best thing she ever felt, but the sounds were getting even better and she didn’t know what would happen if Mary
* * *
Sylvia woke to a kiss on her forehead. “Wha?” she said, not even sure how to begin to remember where she was.
Then Mary spoke, and Sylvia felt her whole being orient around that voice.
“If you do a good job, see, you don’t have to be conscious when I eat you. The last thing you remember is perfect bliss.”
After a moment Sylvia realized she was conscious. “Did I displease you?” she asked frantically, feeling her heart about to break.
“Oh no,” Mary reassured her. But I have something even better planned for you. I misled you a little when I asked if you knew where little harpies come from. They don’t come from sex with other harpies, because we’re all women. And they don’t come from sex with human men… though I like that a lot. They’re so grateful now, you know?”
Sylvia tried to puzzle it out, but was distracted by realizing she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even look down at her body, very well—everything below her neck seemed to be packed in something, something hard that kept her from moving. She could just reach her chin down enough to touch a hard, smooth, rounded surface. Like a shell.
“New harpies come from human girls, Sylvia. And now, you can be with me for a very long time. Just the two of us. Unless you have some friends who might like to join you?”
Sylvia thought about her friends, up above in the city, listening obsessively to her music mixes… and thought she just might.
Kitty stood and looked at herself in the mirror, pleased with the reflection. He had told her he was coming to see her bearing gifts, so she wanted to look good for him. Her new baby doll nightie looked stunning on her, just long enough to cover but still show glimpses of her little panties underneath, and the soft silky material displayed her pert breasts perfectly.
She had arranged her lounge as he liked it, a cushion for her to curl up on and a chair central to the room for him, so that when the doorbell rang she did a quick check all was as it should be when she hurried through to greet him. He smiled down at her as she embraced him and rubbed herself sensually up his body, her kitty-greeting always resulting in a lump forming in his pants that she made sure her pelvis teased against. Releasing him she scampered back into the lounge and sat on her cushion, turning to watch him remove his long coat before sitting in his chair, her eyes drawn to the large bag he placed by his side.
He caught her look and laughed.
“Patience lil Kitty, all will be revealed soon enough!”
She smiled at him and wriggled over her cushion, stretching and letting him see her lithe figure under the baby-doll, purring at him with a cheeky grin.
“Awwww Sir…you know how Kitty loves surprises (she licked her lips)..and Kitty is always VERY grateful….”
He smiled and shook his head.
“You are an incorrigible lil puss-cat, so I guess I may as well show you now.”
Kitty giggled and clapped her hands in glee, rising up onto her knees to get a better look at what he had brought her. He carefully opened the bag and removed several parcels, which he placed on the floor between them, then looked up at her.
“You are a beautiful lil Kitty; however there have been things missing (he smiled at her pout), and these will make all the difference.”
He passed her the first parcel, which she tore open like a child at Christmas. She gasped when a soft furry mask fell into her lap. It was black, the fur very sleek, with small ears and even whiskers! She giggled excitedly and put it on, loving the way it fitted snugly over her head. She jumped up and crossed to the mirror over her fireplace, grinning hugely at the kitty that looked back at her!
“Oh Sir I LOVE it!!”
She went to give him a hug but he raised his hands.
“Not yet lil one, there are still things to open so back on the cushion.”
She gave another pout and jumped onto the large floor cushion, once again up on her knees and jiggling from side to side, waiting for the next parcel.
He passed another, and she ripped it open quickly. Inside were two long gloves, made of the same sleek fur, that when she slid them on came up to her elbows and transformed her hands into paws. The fingers were cut so that just her nails showed through the ends, and on her palm were three soft pads just like a real cat! She held her arms up and admired the way they fitted; now she had paws!!
She bounced on her cushion in excitement.
“Oh Sir they are lovely! Look how they make Kitty’s front legs all sleek and furry!!”
He chuckled again at her bouncing.
“Settle down lil Kitty, still things to go yet!!”
He passed her another parcel, the paper from this soon joining the growing pile next to her cushion. Inside was a flat box, and when she opened it she found a slim crystal and leather collar, with a small crystal bell. With a squeak she scrambled across to him, turning her back and lifting her hair. He reached down and slipped it around her neck, fastening it so it was not too tight. As soon as his hands had finished she jumped up and went back to the mirror, the bell making soft tinkles as she moved. She preened in the mirror, turning this way and that to admire the collar (and make the bell tinkle) before returning to her cushion all flushed and giddy.
“Now I am a proper Kitty, and have my Owners collar!!”
He lifted up the last parcel and waved it at her.
“And this will complete my Kitty’s new look!”
She held out her new paws and took it from him with a giggle, nails scrabbling at the paper until something long and furry fell onto her knees. She picked up the sleek black tail, her mouth open as she saw it finished in a shaped crystal butt plug. Her eyes went from the plug to his and back again, her bottom lip being chewed as she contemplated how she would wear this. His laughing made her stop and look at him.
“Come here lil Kitty, I want to see how it all looks on you. Turn around and lift those little hips up for me!”
Kitty crawled slowly towards him, and shuffled around so she was facing the other way. She watched over her shoulder as she felt her panties being lowered to her knees, and slipped from her legs. His fingers stroked her firm bottom, then delved between her legs, making her catch her breath as they found her clit and stroked her gently. He played up and down her pussy, Kitty rocking back at him and arching with a purr as his fingers slipped inside her, moving slowly, and she could feel her juices starting to run down her thigh. She gave a little whimper as his fingers slipped out of her and moved up, circling her tight ass, using her juices to tease her open a little. Kitty moaned loudly when the plug was pushed into her pussy, and moved around inside her to get it coated and slippery before she held her breath as it slid up to her ass and was eased inside her. She had never been touched in this way before, the feeling of being filled was a new one for her, so when he told her to crawl around for him, let him see how she looked, she clenched tightly and moved slowly on all fours, the tail swishing down her thighs. Kitty stalked around the room, her eyes on him as he watched with a small smile, those eyes widening as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his large hard cock.
“Such a pretty lil Kitty, look what you have done! Come over here and say thank you properly.”
She slowly and deliberately crawled to him, licking her lips as she reached his knees and rested her chin on his thigh.
“Does Sir want Kitty to clean him?”
He growled and angled his cock towards her mouth, so Kitty moved her head and licked the tip of him gently, purring in her throat as she worked around his cock licking and sucking as a good kitty can. She could feel him swell in her mouth, and knew he was getting hornier by the second. She heard a small “click” and found he had attached a long diamante lead to her collar. He eased himself out of her mouth and stood, lifting the lead and turning her around.
“Lets take you back to your cushion lil Kitty, your Owner wants to feel you around him.”
He walked slowly towards the cushion, Kitty crawling alongside, once there he told her to kneel and go down onto her elbows. Kitty lowered herself slowly, watching his hard cock twitching, knowing he was going to use his pussycat, and when he knelt behind her using his thighs to spread her wide she whimpered and purred at his urgency. He lifted her tail and held it in his right hand as he guided himself into her, Kitty mewling and arching at being filled so quickly, the sensation made different by the pressure from the plug inside her ass. His left hand held her hips as he started to move quickly, the lead held taut to keep her head up and back as she was taken hard and fast. Her Owner grunted in passion as his little kitty squirmed and moaned, until with a growl he came deep inside holding her tight to him as he emptied his balls.
With a sigh he slipped out of her and patted her behind.
“Roll over kitty, I want to watch you play for me.”
She was close to coming herself, so rolled over quickly and stretched across the cushion, her thighs falling wide apart as she touched herself with her new paws. She was lost in the sensation of the fur rubbing over her swollen clit when she noticed he had set up a camera, and was recording her as she fingered.
“Don’t stop lil Kitty, it is for me to enjoy when I am away from you, and I know you will like to watch yourself afterwards!”
The thought of him getting off on watching her, AND recording it to enjoy later, made her fingers move faster. She arched towards the camera so that it would pick up the detail of her hard nipples and panting mouth. Kitty rolled sensuously over the cushion, showing herself off as her fingers pumped into her, she was on the very edge but couldn’t come, and didn’t want to stop showing him how a Kitty could writhe. She was whimpering and mewling, desperate now, and she turned her back to the camera and lifted her hips so she exposed her pussy clearly, knowing it would be dripping with both their juices as her fingers worked around and inside herself. She turned her head so that she could look over her shoulder at him and the camera, purring quietly.
“Please Sir, can Kitty have her cream now and come for you?”
He nodded, so still looking at him she rubbed her paw hard over her clit, grinding it into her pubic bone. Kitty threw back her head and mewed loudly as the orgasm rippled through her, making her hips shudder as she fell forward onto the cushion and wriggled against her hand. She lay there panting and sighing as he reached forward and stroked her back gently.
“My good lil puss-cat, I shall make you perform for me more often!”
Angela Martin is like everyone else. She wants acceptance. Love. Passion.
For five years she’s lived with the pain of knowing her husband cheats on her. She’s dealt with the heart-rending rejection by rebuilding her life around her work, becoming the first woman detective in the history of the Moose Creek, N.C., police department.
Then she stumbles upon him. A man who reawakens desire, who makes her feel more alive than she believed possible by pulling her into a world of bondage and dominance, devotion and trust taken to a new level, fear mingling with desire, a craving stronger than any drug.
Soon women start turning up dead in Moose Creek, bound and tortured, tied in ways that Angela finds startling familiar. Angela’s heart tells her that her newfound love cannot be the killer, her detective instincts tell her otherwise, and her obsession with this new lifestyle draws her back to him, even at the risk of her life.
LETHAL OBSESSION is a tale of sex and bondage, love and fear, desire and suspicion, with an ending that will leave you breathless, craving more.
LETHAL OBSESSION is available for purchase during March for an introductory offer of $2.99.
Get it at Amazon
About the Beautiful Shandra Miller
Shandra is a mid-western gal who left home at 16 and never looked back. Eventually she made her way to Florida, worked for three years as a carnie and another three with a circus — yes, a real, live, honest-to-god circus. Traveled all through the South and Mid-Atlantic, town to town, on the road eight months at a time.
Now she’s a small-town office girl, filing papers, answering the phone. She doesn’t own a cell phone or a TV, she takes long walks at night, lies in the grass in the day time and watches the clouds go by, and she writes erotica. Blazing hot erotica. And mystery stories dripping with lust, sex and suspense.
You can also join her March Lethal Obsession Blog Tour — There you’ll find contests and giveaways, and a chance at winning a $20 Amazon gift card and an e-copy of all of her published fiction!
An excerpt from
Angela took a deep breath, exhaled, then opened the door and stepped in.
She felt the blood drain from her face, the strength leave her legs. She stumbled, grabbed the door handle for support. It wasn’t enough. Her knees buckled and she leaned her body against the door jamb. Angela closed her eyes. Do not pass out. Do not lose it. She flinched when a hand touched her shoulder.
It was Tank, and his voice – his touch – brought Angela back to her senses. She stood straight and turned away, facing back toward the parking lot.
“You okay?” he asked, surprise in his eyes.
Get a grip. Moose Creek was a small town – a fourth of its entire police force stood before Angela – and she was the first woman ever hired outside of a clerical deputy. She had worked hard, taken on all the most difficult cases that managed to spring up in their town, went through the toughest training courses she could find, and it had paid off. Angela had the respect of her chief, even the awe of some of the younger officers, yet she still carried a small chip on her shoulder. Crimes were not supposed to bother her, and she worked hard at showing no reaction….
…Angela braced herself and turned back inside.
Across the room the nude body of a woman hung. Her arms were stretched overhead, wrists bound together and then tied to a metal loop driven into the ceiling. A scarf was tied around her head, acting as a blindfold, and another gagged her, holding what looked to be another balled-up piece of cloth deep in her mouth.
A tremble ran through Angela’s body. Just do your job. She looked around. It was a bare room – bed undisturbed, small cheap desk against one wall, next to a low chest of drawers. On that set a television, blaring some music video channel.
Angela pulled two latex gloves from her pocket and put them on. Carefully, so as to offer minimal disturbance to the scene, she walked across the room, stopping to take the remote from where it set on top of the television. She clicked a button to see what channel it was on, checked to see the last channel it had been on, then clicked the mute button. She turned back to the victim and stepped to her.
Dried mascara lined her face. She had cried. From the look of her face she had cried a lot. Angela struggled to focus, to think, flashbacks playing through her head, the feeling of dread, of helplessness, of seeing nothing but darkness, hearing nothing but the sound of her own muffled voice and the slap of leather against her body.
Angela stepped around behind the woman – red marks crisscrossed her buttocks, the back of her legs, a couple snaking their way around her hip to the front. Angela felt faint, ghost-pain stings from her own butt surfacing in her mind. And, despite her fear, and revulsion of what she was now investigating, from somewhere inside she felt…arousal at the memory of her own experience….