House of Darkness Ch. 01

The uneasy silence of the night was broken by the impact of a thick leather boot on the heavy wood of an old church door. The door shuddered and creaked slowly inward, but was otherwise unchanged by the abuse.

Faint streams of silvery moonlight danced over the stone entryway just beyond the door, but failed to illuminate any further within. There was a long, ragged, drawing of breath and the wearer of those well-traveled boots cautiously entered the forgotten church.

His name was William. He was 18 and barely a man. A Knight of the Holy Order, though not much of one. Not yet. He had not spoken the vow that would bind his life to service and had fled his training in the depth of night. Still, though he was untested in bloodshed, the long iron blade in his hand gleamed with a keen edge and the clanking iron plates of his armor did little to encumber him. He was broad in chest and shoulders, arms thick from the rough labors of early years as a farm boy. Locks of curled blonde hair stuck from under his leather cap at unruly angles. The lantern in his left hand was steady as he took his first steps into the darkness which refused to yield.

The church foyer was massive, stretching out around and above him, the steep sloped roof resting on tall stone columns. It was even larger than he remembered from his youth, seemingly unnaturally so. He advanced slowly, peering into the shadows which would not retreat from his lantern light. In the distance, a few points of candle light hung motionless and eerie in the void of blackness.

Soon he realized the night was no longer silent. In the distance he could the faintest of sounds. Wet, rhythmic sounds that reminded him of flesh and sweat. Perhaps he was imagining it. Perhaps not. He wasn't sure which would be worse. He realized that he had not moved in several breaths and forced his feet to move again.

The candles seemed to be held aloft by statues, marking the walkway between the columns at odd intervals. Steeping away from the center of the path, he peered closer and realized they weren't statues at all. At each point of floating light, a woman was bound to a column and held in place by heavy chains. She was upside down, her back pressed against the stone and her legs and arms wrapping around behind her.

A thick red candle had been firmly inserted into her vagina. As her body trembled, so did the bobbing light. Hot liquid wax dripped down the candle length, burning its way between her labia, over her clitoris and down along her stomach. Some of the wax had made it as far as her hanging breasts and red trails began to circle her nipples. Her lower regions were smoothly shaved, allowing the wax to flow and run freely. Given the amount of wax decorating her body, the candle must have been quite prodigious. Or, simply changed regularly. Both thoughts were disconcerting.

He realized that despite her relative stillness, she was awake and looking at him. Her mouth twisted slightly in a silent, inverted grimace of pleasure. Her eyes locked pleadingly on his and as he took in her nude form he realized he was growing hard. He tore his eyes away from her and closed them tightly. He was breathing hard. He shook his head to clear away the intrusive thoughts but the sounds of wetness were ever present.

Two more candles marked the way. Then, if his memories from long ago were true, he would arrive at the central altar platform. There he expected he would find his goal. The foulness. The thing which he had come to kill. He could not be stopped or dissuaded. He could not afford to lose himself to the taint or perversion that had made its home in this place.

He continued onward. Each step was slow and heavy, with a long period of breathing in between. As he approached the next hanging candle, a dark curiosity burned within him. He had no desire to peer into that darkness or see what it held. But as much as he tried to fix his eyes directly ahead, they were inevitably drawn aside.

This one was not so bad, he assured himself. He could not see into her eyes or see her face. This woman was like the other, bound upside down. She hugged the column, her body wrapped around it and her back to him. A thick red candle was fixed into her upright anus, spreading the hole wide. Surely an object of that width must have hurt exceptionally. He could not imagine such as thing. It must have been nearly the size of a man's wrist.

Other than a small crimson pool at the base of the candle where it entered her, there was no sign of dripping wax. He suspected it was much the same as the previous woman, and it had burned its way down her front. He was possessed by a sudden urge to investigate further, to see what shapes the wax had made on her naked flesh, but turned away before it became irresistible.

He moved past the silent candle bearer. The noises in the distance were subtly louder. There was a long whisper of breath, as if a woman was exhaling. He was nearly there. He would cleanse this place. He would set things right, and take his revenge.

One candle remained. He approached, making no attempt to look away. The candle light bobbed, more vigorously than the others. A third woman was bound here, facing him like the first. However, her legs were chained upright and spread wide, her body roughly making the shape of an inverted star. Her body was slightly bent, her buttocks and shoulders pressing against the column which held her weight.

She also held a candle in her vagina, but hers burned much lower than the others. The flame danced only inches away from her delicate skin. As she shivered, a large glob of wax fell from the candle, landing directly between her open labia. It sizzled slightly against her flesh. He watched as it slowly flowed down her opening and rolled over her engorged clitoris, sending her into greater fits of trembling against her bondage.

In his little experience with women, he had never seen a clitoris so swollen, so begging for release. The throbbing button seemed to be thrust into the cold air. A monument to her desire, and her need. He wanted to reach out and touch it, stroke it. Taste it. Her nipples were likewise erect, and droplets of sweat ran down her full breasts to drip from them. Despite the darkness, her body was covered in wetness and seemed to shimmer with golden light.

His eyes drifted further down her body, and he saw that she was gagged. Her mouth was stuffed full of cloth, tied around her head, preventing her from making any sound. Her eyes met his, and within them he could see her desperation. They were filled with their own sort of dancing light that seemed to come from within. A primal, wild, need. She looked at him, and begged him with her eyes. He could undo the chains. Remove the candle and replace it with his fingers, as he explored her body.

In his mind, the long feminine exhale came again. He could hear the sound she made as his young manhood entered her body. The reflections of candle light on her buttocks as he pulled her back against him, to better fill her.

Or, she begged him, simply tear away that cloth gag. She was utterly helpless. It would take only the barest of moments to fill her mouth with his cock. No one would ever know, in the darkness. She was a nameless thing, who was she to tell anyone? Her eyes told him, and he knew it without doubt to be true, that her lips would hungrily milk him, and it would be absolute bliss to feel the pumping of his hot seed into her mouth.

Surely, he deserved that. Surely, there was no harm in it.

He realized that he had no free hands to undo his clothing with, and knelt to place his sword and lantern on the ground. As his eyes broke away from hers, some of the cold and darkness crept back into his body like a shock of cold water.

He knelt on the cold stone floor for a long moment gathering his thoughts and steeling himself. He realized there was a dampness in his crotch. He was beginning to understand. To see the truth. Of how so many had failed before him. Of how powerful this darkness was, and how tempting.

From the floor, he looked up at the suspended woman again. Her eyes were closed now. The candle had burned even lower. The flame was perhaps an inch away from her flesh now. He was uncertain how long he had watched her.

Her breathing was fast and unsteady. As she trembled and bucked against her restraints, he realized she was orgasming. It went on for long moments. The wetness of her orgasm began to flow along her body, mixing with the candle wax.

Finally, she was still. The candle flame crept onward, began to flicker feebly as it burned down into the wet reservoir of her hole, and went out.

There was silence. It was cold, and dark, and still. The distant sounds were gone. Looking into the darkness behind him, he realized the other candles were long extinguished. The door was out of sight, beyond the circle of his lantern light.

He was nearly there. Only a bit further. He could feel the edges of frayed carpet. The altar wasn't far now. There, she would be waiting, and he would end it all.

He staggered to his feet. The tip of his sword scraped roughly across the stone as he regained his balance. One foot after the other. Despite the emptiness, the darkness in front of him seemed to be dancing. The edges of his vision were filled with dark things, more shapes than form. Sharp nails dug into the curve of a buttock. The full roundness of bouncing breasts. A single fingertip that traced the lines of a dark flower, dripping with sweet nectar.

And then, suddenly, he reached the end. There was a spark, and two candles flared into life, illuminating the long altar table. There light was dim, but crept along the length of the church, providing more light than they rightfully should.

There she sat, on the altar, waiting on him as he knew she would be. She seemed somewhat subdued, nearly human. Her appearance was similar to that of an adult woman. She was tall and slender, with a beautiful face. Her breasts were perfectly formed, and quite large for her small frame. However, she was bald. Small, elegant purple horns protruded from her forehead and curved back along her skull. Her skin was very pale, faintly tinged in purple. She was, of course, entirely naked.

As he approached, she smiled at him. She reclined back slightly on the table, spreading her legs and giving him a full, welcoming view of her vagina. Like the other women, it was smooth and clean.

She spoke first. Her voice was cold but seemed to bubble with enchanting warmth, like a hot spring in deep winter.

"Oh noble knight. You have come so far and given up so much. Please, tell me, why have you come to see me?

For a heartbeat, he rallied his courage. Then, he thrust his sword forward and spoke loud and firmly, with all the resolve he could muster.

"My name is Sir William. I am a Knight of the Holy Order. You are a foul demon, a temptress and corrupter. You have tainted and despoiled this village, where I was born, and whose people I knew. For your sins, I have come to end your life."

As he finished the last word, she threw her head back and roared with laughter. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and echo around him. It was deep, and mocking. The tip of his sword wavered, as he tried to hold it threateningly. She spoke again, louder this time.

"Bull. SHIT." Her buttocks slid across the smooth altar top as she shifted forward and pointed a finger at him accusingly, "You, sir knight. Have come here for the same as all the others. The same as all men. You've come here to get your manly dick wet. To spill your seed into a hole. Nothing more."

His teeth locked into a grimace, and he charged forward furiously. His sword cut a gleaming arc through the light as it swung toward her delicate looking neck. There was a sound, like a whip across leather, as she easily caught the blade in mid swing. She was seemingly unharmed and unimpressed. Her fingers closed around the iron and she casually leapt up from the altar to stand close to him.

His muscles bulged and strained forcefully but despite his efforts he could not move the weapon from her grasp. Suddenly, she was very close to him. Her eyes met his just a moment and the nearness shocked him into stillness. A long, hot tongue trailed along his earlobe and she whispered into his ear.

"Tell me. What was her name."

He roared in anger, releasing the hilt of his sword and swinging wildly with his gloved fist. The strike caught only air as she danced back, laughing and taunting him. His weapon clattered to the floor. He slumped, seething and downcast. There a long, burning moment before he spoke, words dripping with fury - and hurt.

"Her name was Lisa. We were the same age and played together as children. She had the most beautiful hair, the color of sunflowers. Her eyes were like the blue of summer sky, and her laugh... it was the happiest sound I have ever heard."

His eyes locked on the demonic woman again as he charged a second time, shouting, "AND YOU TOOK HER AWAY FROM ME!"

Again, came the whip-snap quickness of her movement and the unbearable strength of her inhuman body. His wrists were held in her hands. He grunted and his feet slid on the floor but he was held fast. He struggled, ineffectively. Despite being nearly twice her size, she refused to budge at all.

She leaned in close again and whispered to him, "Would you like to see what I do to those I take?"

He struggled with all the force he could muster but she leaned in and pressed him back a step. Her grip may as well have been iron. She took a step forward and he was forced back again. Then a third, and another, until he was between the nearest set of columns.

"Let me show you," came the voice in his ear. "I think you will like it."

Moving of its own accord, a long iron chain shivered across the floor and wrapped around his right arm, pulling it behind his back. Then another took his left arm. They pulled tight, writhing like snakes around the column lengths, drawing him up to his full height, bound hard and fast.

She smiled at him. Licking her lips, she charged in viciously. The clawed talons of her hands dug in under the metal plates of his armor, but did not draw blood. She tugged with incredible force and the broken shards scattered across the room. She tugged, tore, and ripped, exposing his tan skin. It went on for long moments as she eviscerated his coverings. Soon, nothing remained, not a single scrap of cloth. The chains dug into his skin and he stood there practically hanging in their embrace, fully naked.

Leaving him helpless, she turned away from him and moved back to the altar, beckoning to the darkness. She whispered a single word, so softly he wasn't sure it was even a sound. It was a name.

Lisa.

For a moment, there was only the ever-present shadows. Then it seemed to peel away and she was there, as if she always had been. The room seemed to brighten as the light shimmered across her golden yellow hair. She was exactly the way he remembered her, still wearing the same linen dress he had last seen her in, when they said their goodbyes.

Their eyes met and her face lit up with happiness as she ran to embrace him. She crossed half the distance, before the clawed hand took her by the wrist, ending her dash. With horror, the young beautiful woman turned to face the succubus. She screamed as her eyes crawled over every inch of dark skin.

With a powerful tug, she pulled the sweet girl forward and forced her down, bending her over to lay on her stomach across the altar. She held her there as she began to cry, her buttocks in the air and facing William as he hung helpless, her threadbare dress doing little to conceal their shape.

The chains clattered as he fought, fruitlessly, only able to watch. He screamed in defiance, "STOP! LET HER GO. If you touch her, I will tear you to pieces and spray your blood across this chapel floor, you filthy whore!"

The demoness used a single hand to press her down against the altar and giggled lightly, over the sound of whimpers and tears. Lisa's legs kicked out, trying to break free, but she was equally helpless. The demoness turned to smile wickedly at him, looking into his eyes as her other clawed hand dipped low, moving under the young woman's dress.

Lisa cried out sharply and her whimpering took on an even more desperate tone. Her legs kicked harder as the unseen hand continued its work. Only the slight bobbing of a wrist was visible beneath the cloth. Then, it stopped, and she withdrew, leaving Lisa to pant and sob.

She spoke as if something had just occurred to her, "Oh dear. How rude of me. How awful. You came all this way for this girl, and I haven't even allowed you to see her. You certainly deserve that much at least. Please, allow me."

The hand that withdrew from her dress moved up to her neckline. A single sharp talon rested on the upper edge, then there was a tearing sound as it steadily worked its way south. The garment parted, revealing soft and pale skin, bare beneath her clothing. Further, cutting lightly between her shoulder blades, down the small of her back, down the curve of her buttocks, and finally cutting free. The remains of the dress were pulled free and tossed aside, leaving Lisa nude and exposed.

William gasped, both in horror at what he was being forced to watch, but also in somewhat unwilling excitement. His young love was certainly beautiful and had crossed his mind in a rather lewd manner on more than one occasion. Now, she was bare in front of him and he was stunned by the view of her buttocks and the tantalizing glimpse of pinkness between her legs.

The succubus beamed a smile at him again, "There. Isn't that better? Now we can all enjoy the view together. And what a view it is! What an ass on this little whore. I bet she is even still a virgin."

There was a loud smacking noise as a clawed hand slapped Lisa's ass hard, the impact raising her slightly off the table and causing her to squeal and cry harder. The hand next dove in between her legs. Lisa squirmed and tried to pull her legs tighter together, but there was no stopping the violation.

The succubus found her virgin sex and began to stroke it, pushing her thighs apart and playing with her labia. Lisa cried out between gasps, begging her to stop. I'm a virgin, she cried. Please don't rape me, I am pure, I don't want this.

Of course, the stroking only became harder and deeper. She leaned in behind her to whisper in her ear, though her gaze was still on William, "Of course you want this. I KNOW you want this. I can feel it. Do you have any idea how hot your cunt is right now? It's practically burning, and I know a thing or two about burning. Your absolutely desperate to get fucked." She smiled wider at William, "Would you like see how desperately she wants it?"

Lisa's legs were forced wider apart. William found himself almost involuntarily staring at the forbidden sweetness between her legs. He could barely see the hole hidden between her buttocks, but had a perfect view of her pussy. It looked so sweet and innocent. Her small labia were flushed and pink, recently abused. He could see the curls of black hair around her opening and mound that looked wonderfully natural on her body.

Two long fingers reached down on either side of her labia, pulling her hole open. As she gaped slightly, a third finger pushed its way inside her body in one firm motion. She cried out as the finger probed into her up to the knuckle, then further. There was a twisting motion, as if milking her inner wetness, then the finger withdrew.

The succubus held her hand up and allowed the dripping wetness to shine in the light. She watched his lip tremble as she held her finger there for him to witness, then slid the digit into her mouth and slowly licked it clean. She savored the virginal wetness with a long moan of pleasure.