A Samhainn Tale

As promised, there is nothing that he doesn't do to me. His tongue explores every inch of my body. Every crevice. I have never been with anyone with such skill. Such an ability to turn me on. He only has to touch me and I am in heat.

I lose track of the number of times I orgasm. I come as he sucks on my nipples. Come as he licks me. Come over and over on his cock. I even come when he buggers me. On my knees and then again on my back, his cock buried deep in my rump as I scream my pleasure. My orgasms are long, intense, almost painful. They leave me gasping for breath, my whole body shaking.

All the time he talks. Sometimes in English, sometimes French or what sounds like Latin. Sometimes in a strange, guttural language that I don't understand. I talk too. Begging. Promising. So many other words I can't remember.

Still he goes on. His stamina is impossible. I am exhausted. Barely able to think and when finally he takes his pleasure, finishing in my mouth I can barely even stand. The last thing I recall as I lapse into unconsciousness is the soft, chanting rhythm of his voice.

~

When I awake it is daylight and things feel...different. It is as though the fog that has been over me for the last month has dissipated a little. I rub my eyes and stretch out. Slowly taking in my surroundings.

I am still in his bed and he is still there, watching me. I jump slightly. Surely he wasn't there a second ago? There seems something different about him today too. A different cast to his mouth perhaps? Or maybe just my imagination.

"Oh god. What time is it? I need to go home"

He just laughs.

"No really. I didn't even tell me fiancé I would be out."

"That doesn't matter now" he says, looming over me. "You cannot leave."

"What do you mean?"

He smiles, cruelly.

"You made a pact. You are bound to me."

"I don't think so. I'm not 'bound' to anyone but my fiancé"

He laughs again. The sound unpleasant. Cruel. Mocking.

"Leave then."

"Fine."

I get up, still naked but angry enough not to care as I stalk toward the door. But when I get there, when I try and step out, I find I can't. It's almost like my body just won't obey me.

He laughs at my confusion.

"You made a promise."

"What? No. I can't... it was just words."

He chuckles.

"Silly girl. You are not on your world now. There is no such thing as 'just' words here. Words are everything. You must sense it."

I shake my head. It can't be. But somehow I feel it. Somehow I know he speaks the truth. I look up at his face, tears forming in my eyes. I retreat onto the bed. Wrap the covers around me to hide my nakedness.

"Yes. Now you begin to understand."

"I...You...you...tricked me!"

"Indeed. It is what I do. My nature if you will."

"Who are you?"

"I have many names. Loki. Coyote. Raven. Mercurius. Many others. The one I prefer is the Trickster. But my name is irrelevant. All that matters is that you, foolish girl, are mine."

"No."

"Yes."

"You don't have to do this. You could send me back. You have the power to send me back."

"I could," he concedes, "But why would I?"

"Please," I implore, looking up into his eyes. For a fleeting second I see... something else. Not him.

He only grins.

"Yes. Finally you begin to see through the illusion."

"What are you?"

"I have already told you. And this?" he shrugs, "is just a costume. To serve a purpose." his voice deepening, features changing.

I gasp, wriggling backward across the bed and away from him as his skin bulges outward. Thick churning ridges forming beneath it. I stare in horrified shock as his limbs shorten before my eyes. Head expanding. Thick, course black hair sprouts from his chest and chin and belly.

I gag as his skin splits. Bile rising in the back of my throat as he sheds it like a snake, tossing it aside.

What stands before me is grotesque. Monstrous. His features vaguely dwarf like. Thick, hairy chest and broad shoulders. Arms and legs shortened and gnarled with huge muscles. His head too large and grossly misshapen. I try not to look between his legs, naked as he is before me.

His face is leathery. Ancient. Cruel.

"This is my true form. Or at least the closest approximation of it I can take without driving you completely insane," he grins.

I am frozen. A deer caught in headlights. I fleetingly wonder at this statement. Surely I have already gone insane? None of this is possible yet I know, deep in my bones that it is. I let out a sob.

He laughs as he looks upon me.

"What, you find me repulsive? You preferred this?" he says, lifting the discarded skin beside him. Tossing it next to me on the bed. I gag, twitching away from it. The covers falling from my still naked body.

"Do not play the innocent girl. I still remember how you felt writhing beneath me. I will feel that again."

"Never," I hiss.

"Come now. Do you not want to return home? To see your family. Your fiancé?"

"I..."

"Do as I say. Strike a new bargain and when next the veil is at it's thinnest I will return you."

"What...what do you want from me?"

"Only what you have already been so willing to give for the past month."

I blush at his words. His grin is cruel. My eyes flicker down to the thick, vein wrapped penis hanging between his squat thighs. It is repulsive.

"That..."

"Not just that."

I follow his eyes even as he steps toward me, only now noting the marble statues that line the wall. The same as the one in my dream.

"The dreams..."

"Yes, just like in the dreams"

I recoil as he places a leathery palm on me.

"You remember the dreams?"

I remember. My body remembers.

"Will you accept the bargain?"

"I...you will return me?"

"Yes."

"Unharmed?"

"Yes."

I have no choice. There is nothing I can do. I don't want to give in to him yet what can I do? I cannot remain trapped here. Will not. So I whisper my acceptance.

His knowing smile sends a jolt of shame through me but I allow him to lay me back on the bed, watching in horrified fascination as his penis swings upright. Thick and glistening with pre cum, wickedly curved.

He shuffles in between my wide spread legs and I turn my face away. I will not look at him. Will not give him the pleasure. Will make no sound, display no reaction.

But when he eases into me it is impossible. Despite his changed appearance he has lost none of his skill. None of his artistry and I am undone. Betrayed by the reaction of my body to his touch.

It is not me that screams, and rants and moans. Not me that flops uselessly beneath him in multiple orgasm, each one stronger than the last. It is not me that squirts all over his hairy stomach and chest, moaning out my pleasure as it happens again and then again.

All the while the cold stone eyes of the statues watch us. Only when he has spent his pleasure inside me do they come. The statues, the woman, others.

~

30th April

Tomorrow I return. Beltaine When the veil is at its weakest. He will keep his bargain and I will go home. Back to my family, back to my fiancé if I still have one. The prospect terrifies me.

He has used me to satisfy his lust. Used me in ways that I would have thought unimaginable before and for nothing but his own perverted gratification. Yet I have come to crave his touch. Crave what he does to me, what they do to me. I don't know if I can cope without it?

When I made my bargain I was certain it was all I could do. The only choice I could make. The only option available to me. But now I am not so sure.

It is only now, as I realise that I must leave this place, leave him forever, that I realise what I have done. I don't want to leave. Don't want to go back. The irony is that it is all my own doing. My bargain, and only now do I truly appreciate the cruelty of his final trick...