The Strangling

His mouth opened, his eyes narrowing. He rested his hands on her thighs, whispering encouragement as she gradually took the length of him inside. His body grew taut with restraint, his thighs beneath her bottom rigid, lifting her.

When the crown of his shaft was wedged against her very core, she grew dizzy from the pleasure it caused. Closing her eyes, she let her head drop back and took a moment to absorb the intense sensation humming out from the spot where they met, deep inside. Her breasts pounded, tight with pleasure, her nipples rigid and outthrust. Then her hips began to move, following an instinctive dance of their own, and she locked her gaze with his, her inner flesh clutching at him, her hands reaching to stroke his chest.

He groaned beneath her. She watched in awe as each movement she made affected him so, and the pride she felt blossomed in her heart.

"You move so well,” he breathed, struggling to get the words out. “You are truly a sensual creature, a woman born of summer in every way."

She faltered.

"Don't be embarrassed by this, Maerose. This is your true nature and this is your gift.” The expression on his face was almost pained. “Don't stop,” he whispered.

Part of her recognized herself in what he said and as it did she became pure instinct, responding to him with her heart, with her body and her soul.

"You carry the spirit of summer, here.” He raised his hand against her belly, above the spot where they rode against each other inside. “You ride the earth, you bring its seed.” He moved his hand in time, hovering without touching her.

She gasped, for the pleasure inside grew manifold, as if fire had shot from his palm into her core. The flames of the nearby candles wavered wildly, dishes rattling on the shelves in the scullery.

Joyful laughter escaped her and he nodded, urging her on again. “Feel it, the heat, the life there."

She nodded, barely able to follow his guidance and focus on the place.

"Watch, and know this thing,” he urged. “See how we can bring it out, too."

Sourcing the connection between them, he drew it out so that it burned in the atmosphere around them like a live thing, a radiant thing. The cave hummed with light and energy, like a thousand fireflies were hovering around them. She gasped in awe, watching as the energy pulsed and flowed with her every move.

When he brought his other hand into play, stroking the folds of her intimate flesh and riding her swollen bud between his knuckles, she felt as if a raging fire was being stoked inside her. When it fled across the walls, she recognized it; it was theirs, their desire, manifest.

She moved faster, racing for release. Her inner flesh spasmed, the first deep clutch taking her breath, the second releasing a cry of joy from her lips. Her core melted just as his shaft reached and jerked. His liquid heat shot through her. She crushed down on him, grinding them together, drawing out each morsel of exquisite sensation. Around them the atmosphere blazed with light and heat, a hundred times more radiant than the glorious feeling of completion that enveloped her body.

Dazed and in awe at the power of what had passed between them, she rested against his chest where she heard his heart pounding. With his hand on her back they stayed that way till their breathing evened and the atmosphere around them slowly quieted. She shivered, an after tremor of delight taking hold of her, and drew her body free of his. She lay against him.

He ran his hand over her back, clutching her to him. “You see?” he whispered, stroking the entire side of her body as he held her against him with a broad palm. “The power is there for us to nurture."

She nodded. It was true.

* * * *

Even though she rested within the safety of Bron's arms that night, she descended into strange, restless dreams again. At first she found herself walking through the strange place—that which she now knew may be The Strangeling—but this time it was daytime, and she felt that she did indeed know it. It was part of her; she recognized that now. She stared around her, at the peculiar, gnarled trees, bare and haggard, as if frozen in a moment in time, forever to remain there like skeletons, their branches lifted in horror at what had gone on there.

She heard a noise. Veldor stepped out from behind one of the trees. He was dressed in pale gray-colored clothes, like the ashes in the hearth in the morn, and his face was pale and ghost-like, too. She drew to a halt, her body wavering within the dream space. He closed on her slowly and she saw his mouth moving. It was not until he was up close, though, that she heard his words inside her head.

"You will be mine, Maerose. I am the one. It is written in the scrolls. Bron is a fool.” He reached out for her, and as he did, she fought against the torpor that held her, trying to take flight.

He grinned, his lips peeling back to reveal feral teeth. “It is written, I will be your master in this, not him."

She saw his hand loom large in front of her eyes, and then he stroked her face and touched her mind. With all her might, she pulled away.

His laughter surrounded her, but for a moment the vision swirled, and she could not see him. She struggled, but felt him reaching into her thoughts, skewing them. When the vision leveled, she found herself in chains. They were in the cellar again. She was manacled to the wall, and he was right there in front of her. In the flickering candlelight from overhead she saw the true depth of the madness in his eyes. His clothes were now torn and dark with dried blood, the scent of rotting corpses surrounded him.

You are evil. The words flew out of her mind.

He nodded, as if by touching her mind the way he had he could read her thoughts. “And you will host my evil seed as you make your way into the underworld.” The words spilled slowly from his lips, a deadly promise that ran icy cold through every part of her. She struggled to break eye contact, and behind him she saw ghostly forms moving, at one with him in his mission.

He pulled her head back to face him and his eyes darkened, growing red like those of a viper. He reached his hand towards her breast, as he had done the moment he put her into chains in that very room. When he touched her breast this time, though, his fingers were topped with sharp talons. Locking eyes with her, he plunged them into the wall of her chest.

No. Her body leapt away, slammed back against the stone

wall. Pain barreled through her, she thrashed within her constraints.