Inamorato Immortal | Part I | Drowning
"He who transcends death, transcends time."
I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there, but the room was so warm the walls were sweating. Hot. I heard what sounded like wind blowing, but the air around me was motionless. A door at the opposite end of the pitch black square box I was standing in swung open and a triangular slice of light splashed towards me. A long slender figure cloaked in black wearing a hat stepped into the light, covering most of me again in the darkness. Was this some sort of hell? And if so why was my body responding as if pleasured? Something akin to fear escalated in me, and as it did so did a heavy, hot ball of desire rise like a tightening fist deep inside my belly and lower places. I did not know how to satisfy this, but I knew that if I stayed and did not flee, I would find out.
As soon as he’d arrived he’d vanished, leaving me in an awkwardly curious daze of desire and curiosity. I was unsure of what it was that I wanted, but was sure that it, whatever it was, had to be acquired. The door slammed shut covering me in a swamp of shadows, my breath quickening as I realized I needed to reopen the door. A terrified baby’s cry echoed, and I was unsure if it was coming from inside the room or inside me. I ignored it nonetheless and slowly advanced in the dark towards the door. Where did he go? Why had he appeared in the first place? Who was he? Why couldn’t I leave him, leave all of this alone? The escalating heat in my body answered the last for me. I moved slowly towards the door as my thighs beneath my chiffon skirt slid back and forth together in moist ease and terrified anticipation. Before this moment I’d never known such a psychological pairing was possible.
The Victorian points of my boots motioned towards the door as their clatter echoed though the room with each step. I approached the door slowly and when finally in front of it, I reached a hand out towards the brass doorknob. Upon contact the skin on my hand sizzled hot against the metal, and I screamed, yanking it back to safety. Looking down at my palm it was completely in tact, not a scathe in sight. Confused and without any real recollection of the seconds-previous pain, I sniffed my hand, touching it to my tongue assuring myself that it was indeed intact. Did I just imagine getting burned? With slight reluctance and as if I was in a complete daze, I reached out to turn the doorknob again and it opened easily. The door swung open hard and fast, a blinding white light washing over my entire body. For a moment or two I thought I felt my palm throbbing in pain, but the sight of what was in front of me was enough of a distraction that it was difficult to fully notice anything else.
He was sitting on a coal-colored throne, with silent, maniacal eyes doing something between ripping the dainty chiffon and lace from my now glistening skin, and ripping my body apart limb from limb.
“You came,” he said, legs crossed, one elbow resting against the throne’s armrest, his forearm pointing upward with fingers gracefully poised and feminine in the air.
A near whisper slipped out of me. “Not yet,” I said to my surprise, my body nearly trembling now.
I recognized him. Not his body but his soul, his essence. He answered something inside me that had been calling out indiscriminately for ages for darkness...for this darkness. This very specific avenue to ill explored valleys inside my psyche were dark places my fingers and nerves needed to rub up against, over and over, until a new understanding of sensation and self was birthed. Like the spots between my teeth I love to poke until they bleed, but a million times the weight of pleasurable pain.
I looked back down at my hand that was now pulsating noticeably in time with the rumbling muscle in my chest. To my horror, a fleshy red pentagram appeared to be burned on the center of my palm, where it hadn’t been just moments before. The sight of this made its pulsing quicken, and a throbbing beneath my skirt fell in time with the burning pain. Something similar to fear shook through me like a shiver, my body growing hotter and hotter, the heat in place of the usual chill of terror. My palm, my heart, and my clit were singing a symphony of fright and lust, and I felt moisture begin to race down the insides of my thighs.
I grabbed the hem of my skirt with both hands, one fleshy and pained, the other covered in a dainty white lace glove. I pulled my skirt upwards to reveal to the entity in front of me what was beneath it. I wore no panties. Trails of deep crimson dripped down slowly from inside me, in place of the transparent streams of desire I was expecting.
Exposed and bloody, I met eyes with the dark figure perched on his throne, offertory emanations of desire and weakened need rolling off of me. I knew that I was trembling visibly at this point. Subtly silent panting escaped my lips.
He ascended from his throne and walked towards me, his eyes never leaving mine. The chiffon slipped from my palms and floated downward gracefully as a gentle mist of salt water began to burn my eyes.
I wanted him. My body wanted him. My soul wanted him. My fear screamed out to him, in rhythm to the song of my palm, my heart, my clit. Finally he was in front of me. I could see bottomless darkness in his eyes against snowy skin, blonde tinsel hanging from his skull beneath the black hat. He placed a leather-gloved hand around my neck, its initial grasp gentle, quickly escalating to an uncomfortably tight grip, the power of his eyes penetrating deeply into my soul, and what soon felt like deep into my pussy. Colors began to dance along the edge of my vision, and I convulsed in ecstasy beneath the invisible weight of him, of his power, my eyes shutting to one reality, then seconds later opening to another.
Gasping for air, I woke to find myself amid a pool of black sheets naked on my back and drenched in sweat. The same bottomless eyes pierced into me, fascinated, as I lay there unsure of what was reality and what was not, my body resonating, singing high notes that were practically audible. His pale hand adorned with black fingernails wiped the perspiration from my face in a gentle and endearing motion as I felt him again slide inside of me. My body, reaching its near point of saturation, begged him to stop as my soul begged him for more, begged of him endlessness. The pain of him met pleasure as I quickly slipped into another state of horrific euphoria, ascending, transcending, reality bending, as our bodies moved in unison.
My face rose from the surface of blue waters, violently lapping about over me again and again, and I gasped for air as my eyes rolled in the back of my head. I had no idea where I was, besides lost in a weaving of realities and planes. My body whined and I kept swimming or attempting what would be the equivalent of swimming with whatever matter surrounded me. A heavy current pulled me back underwater and I couldn’t breath. What I understood to be my body convulsed, and what could have been moments or years later, what registered as the warmth of the Sun shone abrasively warm and bright against my face. I did not open my eyes. I was filled to the brim with him, as physically full of a person as I could ever possibly be...or so I thought. The light reached a blinding brightness just as I felt my insides stretch, even fuller, a painful expanse that weighted and consumed me. I was barely able to move as I laid there in reverence and pain.
The light flooded my vision with the blood red inside my eyelids. The swelling inside me hurt, and I whined at the pain as my entire body convulsed again involuntarily, bending under the pain and pleasure of him. I did what every atom of me wanted to do : I submit and washed away under this great expanse, strained, stretched, ill sated, broken. My eyes began to burn again and I wanted to gaze upon the face of my captor. The glory and the horror.
The light cooled and I finally opened my eyes to see if he who I was communicating with was still there or what form he had taken. My eyes opened to see pink swollen lips hovering above me in subtle movements as he gasped wordlessly. Once my eyes were open, I tried my best to regain lucidity and pushed myself up on my forearms, then my fully intact palms.
“What are you?” I managed to squeeze out from a voice that seemed raspy in a way that only screaming induces, though I recalled no screaming at all.
“You know yourself so you know me, now don’t you dear girl?” He said the last and stood up on the bed of black on which we lay all in one swift motion. Before I knew it his hips were eye level with me, his cock in front of my face present in some space between offerance and demand.
...To Be Continued...