The Diary

Jane cursed in the darkness as she tried to find the light switch. When she finally found it one of the bulbs blew with a pop and the single remaining bulb flickered uncertainly before deciding not to die today. She paused to inhale some asthma medication before proceeding with difficulty further into the basement. She peered uncertainly at the labels on each box, looking for a box of the ancient fuses that were critical to the continued functioning of the antiquated electrical system. Normally she waited until some community service drudge was available, but she was down to three fuses and the electrical system ate one per day on average. Besides, the volunteer always made a mess.

"Shit!" she muttered as she caught sight of a pile of boxes, the remains of some avalanche created by poor stacking. She shuffled over to the pile, still muttering, and assessed the damage. Papers, old receipts, manilla folders and.... She paused as something caught her attention. Carefully, painfully, she bent over and picked up the little book. It was thin and strangely bound and looked, to her experienced eye, old.

She opened the book carefully and squinted at the writing inside. Her breathing quickened as a suspicion formed in her mind and she looked very, very closely at the writing. It took ten minutes of examination to convince her, but when she was, she smiled as she had not smiled in a very long time and then she stuffed the book inside her shirt and resumed her search for the fuses.

She sat at her desk after closing the library for the day and examined the book. The script was hand-written and very old. With a piece of paper and a pencil she began to transcribe the book. After an hour she was elated; the book was the diary of a Massachusetts colonist. Jane carefully put the book into the drawer that held the library's 'restricted' books, placed her transcription into a file that went into her voluminous purse, and then sat back to think.

'The town owns the book, of course, and I can't steal it. That would be wrong, and it would be difficult to come up with a credible story as to where I found the book. But if I transcribe the book and have my own book-about-the-book ready when I inform the town of it's existance... Yes, that could work. Certainly it would be worth a contract with a regional publisher, and a few television appearances. It might even get me a mention in the history books... well... some books... in the bibliography. But it would certainly finance a modest vacation and might, just, let me retire and get out of this dust magnet.'

Jane worked on the book for the next month, carefully transcribing a little bit each evening. When she was finished, she was convinced that she was looking at a national publishing contract, appearances on national television shows, a very nice vacation and a modestly comfortable retirement; if the book was legitimate. She conceded to herself that it might well turn out to be a hoax. It was certainly unusual enough that it would raise questions. She decided she would send it to the University for authentication. That would ensure a lengthy examination time in which she could plausibly have produced her book, and it would ensure lots of publicity.

That question answered, she turned her attention to the truly strange question that remained. Was the author deluded, or telling the truth? Jane looked at the sentence in the book she had underlined.

'I believe Him to be a thing of Desire, for it is by my Desire I have called Him to me.'

She tapped her fingers slowly on the cover of the book as she considered the book and what it might mean. It was fantastical and... unbelievable, but there it was in writing. Without realizing that she had decided, she pulled out another sheet of paper and began to make a list.

And now, another four months of preparation later and sitting in what had been her bedroom, she considered her preparations and decided that they were complete. The thought that what she was doing might be unwise never crossed her mind. She had made that decision long ago.

So she lowered herself painfully to the floor and began with the firebow. After fifteen minutes she was wheezing and considered reaching for her asthma inhaler, but a fervent burst of emotion welled up out of her and she quashed that thought ruthlessly. Determinedly she pushed on, her only concession to her discomfort being to slow down a little. At the end of half an hour of work she managed to coax a small coal from her carefully prepared pile of tinder. Another few minutes of patient and meticulous work produced a small flame. Red-faced with exertion and on knees screaming in pain she used the flame to light a small candle. With this candle she carefully crawled about the circle lighting the far larger candles around its perimeter.

Then she crawled into the smaller circle a little ways away and lit those candles. The diary had been very unclear about details, but that one line had particularly stuck in Jane's mind. 'I believe Him to be a thing of Desire, for it is by my Desire I have called Him to me.' Jane smiled at the recollection. No hocus pocus there, just the need to focus the mind completely. The kneeling stool from the meditation class sat in the center of the circle and Jane gratefully arranged herself on it. The blood painfully returned to her knees and she coughed once as the pungent fumes of the candles tickled her throat.

Taking a deep breath she settled down into her carefully crafted routine. She plucked one idea at a time from the maelstrom of thoughts and anxieties swirling in her mind, considered each, made peace with it and then set it aside, moving on to the next. When she was calm and focused on the task at hand, she began to breath rhythymically, her stomach contracting to push the air out of her lungs and then relaxing to let the air push itself back into her. She began to feel light-headed and moved to the next step, the one she had considered and examined carefully but never yet attempted.

As she had nurtured the coal of fire she began to nurture the spark of desire. Gently and slowly she fed it. Of tinder she had plenty; the crushed hopes and unfulfilled dreams of sixty years of life. But she took care not to smother the spark by feeding it too quickly. She could feel it growing within her as her heart beat faster and her breath came more quickly. Her desire was a flame now, one that suffused her entire body. She opened her eyes and began to imagine that flame travelling along the line from her circle to the large one. The smoke from the candles stirred as she exhaled strongly, pushing the flame. She imagined she saw the smoke twist languidly in the center of the circle, feather tendrils snaking together to form patterns and shapes. The smoke and shadows coalesced into a face and she smiled only to watch in horror as the face disappeared.

"NO!" she yelled, "NO!"

She closed her eyes and dug deeply into herself, pulling at memories, desperately seeking for more fuel for her desire as she chased after the image. Tears ran down her cheeks as she coughed in the thickening haze of aromatics. And then she found her need.

In the eye of her mind the line between the circles glowed brightly. She coughed, great racking heaves, in an attempt to clear her throat and get enough air. With iron resolve she sucked in a lungful of air and exhaled, visualizing pushing every last bit of her energy through the line into the far circle.

"Lady..." she heard.

Jane tried to concentrate. Tried to remember what had happened. She opened her eyes and found that she was lying on the floor. She blinked, trying to clear the smoke from her eyes.

"Lady..." she heard. It was a soft sound, a rich tenor that rang in her ears. A voice, she realized. She caught her breath and then slowly lifted her head off the floor. The room was filled with the shifting strata of smoke. Through this fog she could see the large circle and the person squatting in it.

His buttocks rested on his heels as he balanced on the balls of his feet.

'Like a hunter would squat', she thought, 'when examining tracks'.

His leg muscles were drawn taut by the position, chiseled and angular and covered by short, dark hair. She realized he was naked when she caught sight of his member and inhaled involuntarily. It hung between his legs, nearly to the ground. Entirely unconcerned with his nudity, he cocked his head to one side and smiled at her. His hair was dark and short, with the soft curls of David. His smile was thin and somewhat lopsided, more to one side of his face. His eyes contained the barest hint of humor and were as grey as the smoke that hung in the air. As she watched, she imagined she could see the grey in his eyes slowly moving.

"Are you injured, lady?" he inquired.

Jane swallowed before answering.

"I'm fine," she croaked.

His smile broadened. "Good. Come here."

Jane felt his words tugging at her and instinctively drew back.

"You're my creation," she said, as much to remind herself as anything else, "You will obey me."

"But no, my lady. I will not. Your desire opened the portal that brought me here, and your need shaped me, but your process has bound you to me," he said. He pointed to the line between the circles. "An unbroken line from a greater to a lesser. In calling me and shaping me you gave your innermost self to me. Your circles do not protect; they bind."

His hand reached up to caress the air and Jane felt it upon her cheek. She half closed her eyes and tilted her head into the feeling. She sighed as it brushed across her lips.

"Come," he called. His voice seemed to resonate in her chest. She pulled herself forward, up onto her hands and knees and crawled along the line and into his circle.

"Good girl," he breathed. He reached down and placed a finger beneath her chin, lifting her up to her feet with nothing more than this touch.

"I know you, Jane. I know you thought your name unlovely. I know you thought your form hideous. I know you thought your needs unnatural and perverse. I know that you feared so much, so long. But you did not shape me with your fears and I contain none of those. I am your desire given form, your needs in the flesh, and I will never be anything of your fears." As he spoke he walked slowly around her. Jane threw her head back and gasped as he touched her, the pad of one finger upon her shoulder. His fingers traced over her back and she wondered when she had removed her clothing. The question was drowned in the waves of sensation that followed his hand, now his hands, across her body. Everywhere he touched her she felt an electric tingle: her back, her neck, her cheeks, her lips, her arms, her breasts, her belly, her legs. When she felt his hands between her thighs she cried out in joy and collapsed back against him. He kissed the side of her throat and cupped her mons, fingers resting lightly upon the folds of her sex.

"Yes," he murmured, "As you summoned me and shaped me, now I have summoned you and shaped you."

Jane opened her eyes and looked around in shock. The small bedroom of her apartment was gone and now she was standing in an enormous bedroom. The carpet beneath her feet was lush and intricately woven. She looked more closely at the pattern and blushed. A large four poster bed stood at one end of the room. At the other was a large sunken bath, perhaps, she amended her thought, a small pool of white marble.

"Where is this?" she wondered aloud.

"Nowhere," he replied, "It is where I reside. Where I wait in unfulfillable lust for someone with the intelligence and need to complete a summoning. Someone like you."

He scooped her up into his arms and carried her across the room. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and was shocked silent, the questions she had thought to ask arrested by the sight. She waved her hand at the mirror and saw the woman there wave back. The woman she had always wanted to be.

"Yes. I shaped you," he repeated, "Here, with you, I have that power."

He lay her down gently on the bed and bent his head to her breast. His lips and tongue circled slowly around her areola and she moaned lightly, arching her back to press the firm flesh up into his mouth. He bit down lightly and she yelped and then groaned as pleasure followed the brief burst of pain. His hand was upon her sex, fingers tracing her wet folds. A finger snaked inside of her, his palm pressing against her mons, the pressure playing upon her clitoris. He moved his hand slowly, finger and palm creating waves of pleasure that mingled with the attentions of his mouth upon her breasts. She heard his breathing accelerating as she came in a short, soft orgasm. She looked up at him and saw him transformed. Lust played across his features and his breath came in heaving lungfuls. She knew, then, that he was in the grip of uncontrollable lust.

"Oh yes," she whispered, "Oh yes."

He reached down and flipped her over onto her belly. The bed buckled as he knelt between her legs, a powerful hand reaching to her belly, lifting her ass high. His rigid cock pressed for a moment against her and then it was buried painfully deep. Jane cried out in pain and pleasure, aching around his shaft. Her vagina, no, her cunt she thought lewdly, felt as though it would tear. He began to pump back and forth, too consumed, too ridden by his desires to be anything but rough. Jane winced and laughed and then ground her hips back, slapping her ass against his abdomen.

"Oh yes," she yelled, "Yes. Yes. Yes..."

His hands reached down to grasp her wrists. He pulled back, inexorably raising her upper body off the bed. Her shoulders were instantly aflame with agony but she could see herself in a mirror, trapped beneath him, and she smiled.

He roared then and Jane felt a rush of warmth inside her. It filled and overflowed her, running in rivulets down her thighs. She whimpered and ground her hips, writhing on his cock in pursuit of her own pleasure. After a moment he pulled her upright, holding her against him. His hands touched her, firmly. Cupping a breast, pulling a nipple, rubbing roughly against her clitoris. His breath was hot and wet upon her neck and she could feel the hint of his teeth. She caught sight of herself in the mirror again, impaled upon him, and climaxed in a shuddering scream.

He stretched the climax out through the skillful use of his hands, holding her tightly to him and whispering sweet lewdnesses into her ear. She rode the waves of pleasure in a satisfied haze, all the while whispering her refrain, "...yes, yes, yes..."

He fell forward onto the bed, lying on his side with Jane before him, still held in place by his strong arms and rock hard member. He chuckled, a rumbling sort of sound that Jane could feel in her torso and, she hissed in pleasure, her sex.

"So long as I have existed I have never known satisfaction," he announced, "Until now. I was always the unfulfilled servant, catering to the needs of my summoner. And now you will cater to my needs and, in the doing, fulfill your needs."

Jane, her mind sluggish with afterglow, merely nodded and sighed. Even now, while he was thinking about something else, his hands moved upon her body, subtly and unthinkingly arousing her. She would do whatever he wanted to stay in this state.

"No," she protested weakly as he moved his hips, slowly pulling out of her.

"But yes," he replied and rolled over onto his back. Jane crawled on top of him and kissed him, first his lips and then his neck and chest. He was slightly salty with a thin sheen of sweat and, she giggled, smoky. She licked his nipple and gasped when she felt the sensation in her own. But it was more. Experimentally she sucked at his nipple and felt the sensation in her own body, but it was overlain with the pleasure he felt. She growled softly and sucked at his body; lips, tongue, teeth, and hands built the pleasure to a crescendo that swept over her.

Collapsing on his chest she looked up at him weakly. He smiled wickedly at her.

"Oh yes, Jane. I can do all sorts of things," he murmured. His hand stroked her cheek and his thumb brushed over her lips. She kissed the thumb and then stuck her tongue out to taste it. Hungrily she took it into her mouth. She felt the sensations in her own body as she suckled at his digit, tongue teasing and then laving. She moved her mouth back and forth on it, reveling in the pleasure he radiated.

Laughing in delight he pulled his thumb away from her care and pushed her head further down his body.

"Finish the bonding, Jane," he ordered, "Taste me."

Jane bent her head to him then and took him, slick with her fluids and his, into her mouth. Again she felt the wave of pleasure that washed through him and she groaned which created another wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. She moaned again onto his cock and the pleasure sent her into a blinding climax. Unable to see, she clung to his cock with her mouth, bringing her hands up to hold him, to caress his balls. She felt him pull her body on top of his, her legs splayed widely, and she trembled as his mouth began to work at her sex, whimpering.

Lost in the overlapping sensations that shook her entire body Jane almost failed to notice as he began pumping into her mouth. Reflexively she swallowed and felt the molten warmth slide into her belly. There was far too much to swallow, but she did her best and when he was finished she blindly followed the trail, lapping at his flesh for any traces she could find. His tongue darted into her, and she convulsed. She could taste herself, smell herself, and the sensations overwhelmed her.

She awoke in the bed, mewling with unrequited desire. She threw back the covers and sat up, aware that the sheets beneath her were wet. She crawled to the edge and out of bed. She stalked through the room in a search for him and found him at a desk, writing with a quill pen on parchment. Lowering herself to the ground she crawled to him, kissing his foot, then his ankle, and moving upwards to his thighs.

His hand caught in her hair, pulling her off of him. He smiled kindly at her.

"First, we must talk. You can't stay here, Jane."

He cut off her protest firmly.

"You can't. It's impregnated with millennia of my lust. It's already affecting you. Soon it will devour you and you'll become a mindless creature chasing after increasingly elusive pleasure until you die. I will not have that."

"Don't send me away from you," she whispered. In the back of her mind she recognized the truth of his words; a small part of her saw what was happening, even as the rest of her didn't care and impelled her to attempt to lick his arm.

"I'm sending you back into the world. You will find me more servants. Intelligent. Willing. And you will build a place where I can become flesh in your world. You are bound to me, so you will always feel my presence. This has its advantages. You will find yourself gaining shadows of my abilities. But it has its costs too. I know that you will always be in a state of desire. Other things I suspect, but I do not know. We will see. Hold out your arm."

She obeyed and he traced a design upon her flesh. Where his finger touched, her skin changed. What was left, when he was finished looked like an ornate design delicately carved on the inside of her wrist.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

"I am pleased you think so. Only my servants shall bear this mark. You are first, and you will always be first. And now," he rose from the chair, lifting her to her feet, "I will sate my lusts with you again before sending you back."

"Oh yes," Jane whispered hungrily.

Jane awoke, coughing, on the floor of her room. Her entire body ached, throbbing painfully in time to her heartbeat.

'A dream?' she thought bitterly.

"Just a fucking dream?" she shouted and raised her fist to pound it against the floor. She froze as her eye caught sight of the design on the inside of her forearm. Tentatively she brought the arm in front of her face and probed at it with the fingers of her other hand. She looked down at her body, examining it, touching it. Awash in delight she stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the light so that she could see herself in the mirror. She turned slowly about, examining herself; her new self.