Stranger in the Dark: An Erotic Retelling of Cupid and Psyche (2 page)

“Ah, Psyche,” he murmured, “it is not time to sleep just yet.”

He pushed his hips into me, and I felt a fresh erection nudging at my back. I swallowed. He pulled my thighs open, draping my leg over his, and pressed his cock between my lips from behind. I bucked back into him with a moan.

He was insatiable, taking me time after time. I slept in fits through the night, waking at intervals when he wanted me.

But in the morning, he was gone. The bedroom door yawned, and light filled the room. I blinked and slid out of the sheets. The bed was a tangled mess. I gazed down at my naked body. My cheeks burned as I remembered how he had used me. The mysterious desires that had filled me seemed distant, and shameful. How had I fallen so easily to his allure?

I shivered, searching for something to dress myself in. My old tunic was gone, but I opened drawers until I found clothes to wear. But these weren’t the long, draping tunics I was used to. They were scant and transparent, made to show my shape.

I gritted my teeth, peeved at the idea of being put on display like a slave girl. But I had little choice, so I pulled one of the scanty tunics over my head. It hid my breasts well enough, but left bare a slender swath of skin at my midriff.

So he wanted me to meet him in the dark for another tryst tonight, did he?

Maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I’d stay in the courtyard, where he couldn’t hide from me.

****

I paced, crushing grass between my toes. The sunset was fading from the horizon. I glanced around nervously, peering through the arches into the dark corridors of the house. I should have brought a candle, to give the courtyard an extra glow, but now it was far too late to venture into the dark halls.

“Psyche,” he said.

I stared towards the house. The echoes of his voice died away.

“Yes?” I croaked.

“Come here,” he said gently.

I stiffened, peering into the shadowy corridor. He was in there, somewhere, but I couldn’t make out any shape or shadow that might be him. The low resonance of his voice strummed the air, thrilling me. I swallowed, feeling my sex swell wet and warm at the memory of the night before.

“Why don’t you come here?” I asked, my voice trailing off nervously.

I squinted hard at the tarry darkness, but still nothing emerged.

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he said.

I folded my arms and stood still. But he didn’t ask again. The halls were silent.

Then a cloth descended over my eyes, and pulled tight. I gasped, grabbing at the blindfold, twisting as he grasped me from behind. I clawed at the cloth over my eyes, but my wrists were pulled away and forced behind me. He leaned down, and I felt the soft caress of his nose against my scalp. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the blindfold again. But another firm pressure folded over my eyes. His hand stayed over my eyes, keeping the blindfold secure, as he lifted me. He tucked his arm beneath my armpit, pulling me with him as he strode from the courtyard.

I stumbled on the steps leading into the house, but he kept me from falling. His arm flexed around my breasts as he pulled me on. I followed as best I could; my vision was gone again, but at least he was enveloping me closely, replacing my sight with new sensations. He pressed firmly against my back, his thighs moving as he strode, his feet slapping on the cold marble. As I squirmed I could feel the hard rod of his cock, thrusting up against my back.

Then he threw me, and my stomach dropped. I landed on a soft cloud of blankets and pillows. Freed from his grip, I clawed the blindfold away, but it was too late. The door was closed and the room was dark as pitch. I sat up, clutching at the blankets, trying to discern where he was. The mattress bowed under his weight as he climbed onto the bed. I shuffled backwards.

“Why do you flee from me, Psyche?” he asked.

I swallowed. “The darkness frightens me,” I said.

“Then let me comfort you,” he murmured, and I felt a warm grasp on my ankle. I jumped at the touch, and a shudder of pleasure passed through me. My frightened excitement was changing again, as it had last night – his touches warped my fear into that strange pleasurable energy. I swallowed, trying not to give in to the aching want that pulsed between my legs. The creature that had claimed me didn’t deserve my devotion, not when he wouldn’t even show me what he was. But his touch was climbing up from my ankle to my calves. Soon the hand was groping hungrily at my thighs, and I trembled at the touch, so close to my sex. His hand brushed closer. My inner thighs prickled under his hand, my lips wet and warm, throbbing their plea for satisfaction. He gripped my legs, one in each hand, and pulled me suddenly so that I landed on my back again.

I gasped. I could feel his knees, pushing between my legs, forcing my thighs apart. I could hear his soft breaths growing ragged and harsh with desire. He lowered himself over me, his body lying flush over mine. I whimpered, feeling his warm soft-skinned erection pressed against my lips. He circled his hips, and his shaft sunk through the lips of my sex, pressing down on my clit. His mouth closed on my collarbone, and I quivered.

But while he kissed my chest, exploring the contours of my breasts, I slyly wrapped a hand around and felt his back. I slid over the peak of his shoulderblade. He caught my wrist swiftly, hissing his displeasure, but I had already felt…something. Something, spreading soft, arching up between his shoulderblades. It was only a brief touch, but it made me that much more curious to see him for what he was.

He rolled off of me, the mattress creaking as he left the bed. I heard the rustling of his motions. After a few moments the bed groaned again as he straddled me. His thighs clamped tight around my legs, keeping me down, and the soft parts hanging between his legs brushed my thighs. I quivered. He caught up my wrists in one hand. He wound a silken strip around them, tightly. I tugged, but my wrists were fastened securely. He lifted my wrists until they were stretched above my head, and rose up on his knees.

I felt a light pull on my wrists as he forced them closer to the headboard. The silken rope went taut against the hard slab of the headboard, fastening my hands in place. As he knelt over me, leaning forward, his erection bobbed near my face, brushing my cheek. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine the shape of it. It was hard and long as a club, the head bulbous and smooth. But as it touched my cheek, the skin of it was so warm and velvety that I felt a sudden urge to turn my head and kiss it.  

Then he was done tying my hands fast, and he crawled back down until his legs were nestled between my own. He stroked my hair.

“Psyche,” he whispered, “you must trust me.”

I could tell, by the gusts of breath that hit my skin, that his lips were hovering over my face, moving here and there as if he was trying to decide where to kiss me.

I opened my lips, sure that his own mouth was just in front of me. “Why should I?”

“You will see me, in time,” he said. “Patience.”

And then he kissed me, sucking at my lips, drawing out my last shreds of resistance. I sighed into his mouth. His hands were on me everywhere, fondling gently and squeezing roughly. His palm folded around my neck, his thumb stroking beneath my ear. His hand caught my thigh and pulled it up, spreading my legs. He reached beneath me to grip my ass, kneading until I whimpered and arched into him.

I was lost again. I wriggled, just to feel his skin sliding against mine. I thrust my hips up, circling until his shaft ground against my clit.

“Psyche,” he murmured, nibbling at my ear, “what do you want to do now? Tell me.”

I swallowed, remembering the silken feel of his cock against my cheek.

“I want to kiss…” I ventured, nervously. I stopped, my face growing red.

“Kiss? As we have been?”

I bit my lip, falling silent.

“Or perhaps you want to kiss me elsewhere.”

I swore I could hear a smile in his voice.

“Perhaps you want to kiss my hand? Or my chest. My feet?” He thrust his hips against me, his voice lowering to a hungry rasp. “Or would you like to kiss my cock, Psyche? Is that it?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. He chuckled knowingly and rose. I felt him crawling over me, and then the soft spongy head of his cock touched my lips. I slipped my tongue between my parted lips, wetting them. I nudged his cock to the side and rubbed it, tentatively, with my nose. I planted my lips on the shaft and slipped my tongue through, a wet kiss. He grunted.

I swallowed, heady with a sudden rush of lust. I slid my lips up the side of his cock, measuring the length of it, feeling out its shape with my mouth. My kisses grew more passionate, my tongue swiping out between my lips to taste him. His shaft was soon slick from my kisses.

He grunted, pushing his hips forward. I explored further, sliding my nose down his shaft until I found the tangle of coarse hairs at his groin. I felt the soft shape of his balls. I nuzzled his thigh.

He guided his cock to my lips again, pushing the head against my mouth. I kissed it again, licking lightly and tracing the shape of the head. He groaned.

“Suck it, Psyche,” he urged, pushing it into my mouth. I opened my lips to receive it, taking a breath before my mouth was filled by his girth. He pushed slowly, meeting resistance at the back of my throat. I clamped my lips tight, licking thirstily at his shaft.

“Yes,” he groaned.

But he pulled away, drawing his cock out of my mouth. The bed buckled as he moved over me. Then he pushed his cock against my lips again. But this time it was thrusting down at a different angle, and his lips touched my thigh. I sucked his cock back into my mouth, tipping my head back to swallow him further. He thrust, gently, prodding at the back of my throat.

All the while his own mouth was exploring between my legs. He kissed my thighs, pulling them apart. Then he kissed the lips of my sex. His tongue flicked out and touched my clit. I groaned, the sound humming around his cock. I forgot how to use my tongue, and merely sucked hard at his member. I squirmed my hips under the onslaught of his tongue.

His thrusts grew faster, more desperate, and I almost choked on the plunge of his cock into my mouth. I could feel his growing tension in the grip of his hand, squeezing my thigh. His tongue pressed relentlessly against my clit, circling again and again until I arched and moaned. I clamped my mouth around his cock as I came, sucking hard on his thrusting organ. He stiffened, and shuddered, and I felt the gush of his seed over my tongue. I sucked and swallowed as he spasmed in my mouth.

He withdrew and pulled me into his arms again. He reached up, loosening my wrists from the headboard. But they stayed tied, stuck behind me. He rested his chin on my scalp.

My eyelids fluttered. The heavy darkness seemed a comfort now, blanketing me, dragging me down into sleep.

“Tomorrow night,” he murmured, “you’ll meet me here, won’t you, Psyche?”

“Yes,” I sighed.

“Good girl,” he said.

****

I waited for him in the bedroom that night. The door swung shut, plunging the room into darkness. He pounced on me, throwing me onto the bed, taking me roughly. He tied me again, but this time he forced me into a different position, bending me over the bed with my feet on the floor. He plowed me from behind, reaching between my thighs to finger my clit until I came hard, bucking against him.

And the night after that, and the night after that, I met him and yielded with pleasure to his attentions. And finally he left me untied, and slept with his arms draped only loosely around me. When he was asleep I slipped out of bed and tried the door, relieved to find it unlocked.

I opened the door, but it was dark in the corridor now, and it didn’t cast enough light on the bed to reveal him. So I crept out and came back with a candle. I cupped a hand around the dancing flame, slipping into the room and approaching the bed.

I almost dropped the candle when I saw him.

He wasn’t a demon. He was a god. Statuesque and impossibly alluring, even with his face lax and unconscious. Honeyed curls slipped over his forehead. His jawline was straight, masculine. His body was well-muscled and proportioned with athletic grace. He was tangled up in the covers, the sheets twining between his legs and half-covering his swelling chest.

He looked human, except for the wings that arched out from his back. I cocked my head, gazing at the strange appendages, trying to puzzle out what it meant. But leaning up against the bedpost was his quiver – the arrows peaked with needle points.

It was obvious, but even so I could scarcely believe it. Cupid. I cringed, ashamed of my poor treatment. I’d thought of him as some demon, all this time. And he knew it.

I glanced over at the arrows again. He hadn’t poisoned me with his arrows. I wanted him, anyway. But wouldn’t it be even better, with the love poison? Wouldn’t it prove my loyalty, if I were to…

I reached for an arrow, and nicked my finger. And then I filled my eyes with the sight of him again. I stepped forward, tugging back the blankets, baring his naked form. The sight was no longer merely beautiful or alluring. It was impossible to resist. I licked my lips, glancing from his chest down to the thick column of his cock, dark with blood. And as I leaned over him, I tipped the candle.

A drop of wax plummeted, hitting his chest. His eyes snapped open.

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The Fae Slave (Part I: Cold Iron)

An Erotic Fantasy Short Story

Warning: this is a fantasy erotic short story, containing dubious consent, a fairy slave and her human master, dominance, submission, bondage, and exhibition, and is for adult readers only.

There’s only one thing Gregor Carnell wants for his tribute from the defeated faeries: Luel, the proud faerie assassin, the deadly beauty. Luel is horrified to find herself chained and presented, a helpless slave. But she still has her pride, enough to keep her from giving in to her desires and to Gregor’s domination...for now, at least.

An Excerpt from
The Fae Slave
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