The Contract in the Courtyard

Victoria strapped her silver dagger to her stockings. She had been given a contract earlier on that cold, misty morning that had intrigued her too much to put off. Usually she would attend to contracts with a mercurial approach - highest paying, highest priority. However, every now and then a case came to her attention that she would address on the very same day. These particular contracts had a distinguishing feature; Vic thought she might be able to utilise her 'alternative' monster hunting approach.

The standard approach, common for monster hunters, was of course to exterminate the offending supernatural creature. Generally there was somebody inconvenienced by its appearance; a farmer whose sheep were being taken by a werewolf; a rich family irritated by a common imp or poltergeist. Often a condition of the contract was returning a trophy of the kill; and these paid handsomely. But on other occasions, comparatively few, the patron simply wanted the supernatural presence to disappear. Vic guarded her methods for these situations jealously. The fact was that monsters were very receptive to quid pro quo arrangements. They also had some...appetites in common with humans. It was a secret thrill for Vic that these appetites could be used in her favour.

She gathered up her heavy black coat and turned her gas lamps right down. Vic knew she'd be returning later, cold and weary, and want to relax in the soft light; she never snuffed the lamps for a night contract. Besides, the landlady would be by before long to make sure nothing was burning down.

Vic left her apartment and descended the staircase, the air cooling as she went. Out in the Autumn night, the sounds of London reverberated off the cobbled road. Rumbling wagon wheels, shoed hooves clattering; jeering women leaning out of windows, latticed gables fracturing the glow of the street lights on their faces. Some blocks away, a drunken argument was gaining momentum. Vic's boots did not add to this nocturnal dialogue; the heels were muffled with pasted strips of velvet. Stealth was sometimes warranted for a woman in Vic's line of employment.

She turned off the wide main street down a quiet lane, free of public houses, but not entirely of drunkards. She was obliged to step over more than one intoxicated form between the tall building facades on her way to the far end. Down this lane was the quieter entrance to St Laverne's churchyard. She had agreed to meet the priest back here, as her somewhat unconventional appearance at the main church doors might have attracted unwanted attention. In personal appearance, she looked enough like a middle-class English lady to go about her business, with dark hair done up on her head and fashionably rouged cheekbones; but her leather utility coat, with its many pockets and belts, was certainly unusual evening attire for a woman.

She poked her head over the churchyard sidegate, looking into the small foggy courtyard beyond. The priest, Father William, waited in an alcove in the high stone wall at the Western edge. He was wrapped in a cloak over his clerical clothes, and looking about nervously, his breath rising in steamy columns. Vic unlatched the iron gate and picked her way across the uneven flagstones and ceramic planters towards him. He perceived her approach and nodded somberly.

"Good evening, Ms Standon."

"Father."

Vic pulled into the arched wall cavity next to the young priest, and joined him in surveying the yard.

"No sign as of yet?" she inquired in a low tone.

"No," responded William, pushing tousled hair from his eyes. "Though it hasn't been witnessed before at such an early hour. You know how these things go. It's as if they goad us by turning up at the Witching Hour."

Vic smiled. "I think there's something to that. They especially enjoy irritating priests."

The fog was thickening across the yard. It blanketed the gnarled shrubs that wound between memorial stones, and pushed against ceramic pots containing more respectable vegetation. A cat could be heard whining from somewhere on the far side of the church at their backs.

Vic removed a gleaming silver crucifix from one of her deep pockets, and tied it round her neck pragmatically.

"So what kind of creature are we talking about here?"

William frowned. "The novice who saw it first said it looked like some sort of huge, glutinous ghost. But the gardener, who barely managed to flee into the church and shut the door on it, said it was more akin to a sea creature. He described...something like a squid."

Vic quietly digested this information, keeping her expression neutral. This would certainly be an interesting opportunity for her to try out her special, alternative approach...but would it work?

"I see. So essentially corporeal, not spectral. Well, I have silver, as well as a small pistol..."

The priest nodded his approval. He had some basic knowledge of Vic's methods. Taking up the position of priest here had necessitated his learning about the annoying habit of monsters of all kinds to lurk in particularly sacred places. They had never been brazen enough to actually enter the church itself, but he had called in Vic to dispatch a couple of ghouls in this very yard, on the advice of his predecessor, in the year that he'd been in office. He appreciated Vic's businesslike approach, as well as her discretion - he felt churchgoers were best sheltered from these particular inconveniences.

Together they stood in the alcove, huddling their shoulders against the brisk air. Minutes passed, and it grew slightly warmer, but the fog did not lift. Vic occasionally allowed herself to study William's broad form in her peripheral vision. She waited with an anticipation that she hoped he could not perceive.

A sudden sound caused their two sets of eyes to whip across to the Eastern end of the yard. A stone had dropped from a small set of steps at the foot of an angel-shaped memorial. It clattered to the ground below and rolled to a stop, resting conspicuously on the paving stone. Vic began to sense the presence of her quarry. Beside her, she felt William tense almost imperceptibly. For several slow seconds, nothing could be seen to move among the shadowy planters and statuettes. And then, fleetingly, a snake-like shadow whipped across the stone below the lowest stratum of fog. Vic squinted. Her keen vision revealed to her that the poor gardener had been more or less accurate in his description. The form of the monster could be discerned by someone who knew what she was looking for. Not a werewolf or ghoul this time, but a rarer specimen; a denizen of the dank tunnels beneath the paved streets of this world, seldom seen above ground except for on dark evenings as the weather cooled. At this time of year, something compelled this monster to surface through grates and seek out warm human bodies - something which was hopefully going to work very much in Vic's favour. The hulking form was moving slowly between the stone statuettes on the far side of the yard, obscured in shadow.

Vic glanced over at the priest, who, with lesser vision, had not yet seen the creature, but was frowning stoically in its general direction. His presence was going to complicate things. Usually, her patrons retreated before the quarry showed itself, not wanting to be witness to the unpleasant dispatching they had commissioned. However, William was not showing any signs of leaving.

Vic caught his eye, nodded towards the creature in warning, and raised an eyebrow. William shrugged back at her. Vic suppressed an exasperated sigh. Surely she couldn't manage to carry out her plan with a witness...yet...on the balance of things, he was not likely to tell anyone. He'd never be believed, for a start; but more significantly, she could not imagine the story ever crossing his chaste lips.

She stepped forward slowly and crossed a few feet to the center of the foggy yard. The creature had perceived her; it's brooding silence gave away this much. Vic watched the large mass sit still, feeling its malevolent gaze. She closed her eyes lightly and calmed her mind. She searched her perception for any communication from this primordial creature. Monsters always spoke to someone like her, someone who was capable of listening; and it was on this hallowed frequency that she had been lucky enough, on only a few occasions, to present her offer. And here, facing this type of creature, at this time of year, she was confident in her chances of success.

Finally she hit upon it. A guttural, ancient language was worming its way into her consciousness. As the slinking beast regarded her, it told her what it was seeking. She already knew. It thirsted for the milk of human arousal. This type of monster fed only once a year on the fluid of human sexual climax. This feed sustained it until the next year. It was an obscene creation of whatever cruel deity was in charge of the supernatural scourges of this realm.

Vic concentrated hard on delivering her response. She liked to deal in this way with monsters where possible, she communicated, and so this was a win-win situation. If she provided the creature with what it sought, would it return to the dank middens beneath the city? And the creature's response reverberated through her mind.

Vic's breathing became faster. Perfect. This was going to be a dream come true - it was why she entered this line of work in the first place, back in her young adulthood. When the other young ladies had shared daring folktales of encounters with vicious monsters, shuddering in horror as they described these otherworldly creatures, Vic had concealed her bodily excitement. Her secret quirk had guided her career, and though she had killed many monsters on contracts, she had also, only on a couple of recent occasions, finally managed to enjoy the kind of activity she had dreamed of for so long.

She looked back at the priest standing in the alcove. "I'm going to begin now," she whispered loudly. "It's going to be a bit different to what you're expecting, but it'll leave when I'm finished. Are you sure you want to watch?"

The priest seemed to swallow with difficulty, but nodded. Vic had to suppress an smirk. What would such a chaste man make of the display he was about to witness?

She turned her eyes back to the dark mass at the end of the yard. Telepathically, she goaded the beast: Come and get what you want then.

With a swampish gurgling sound, the mass immediately began to move forward through the fog. Its form was becoming clearer. Vic watched as the glistening pink skin, smooth and rubbery, came into view; the head, topped with a quivering arrow-shaped crest, watched her intently despite its lack of recognisable eyes. The huge, writhing, squid-like creature was propelling itself forward with the movement of countless thick tentacles, which rolled it over the flagstones. It was these tentacles that Vic's eyes lit on, and her pulse began to elevate. The tentacles had a variety of bizarre appendages at the ends, the purposes of which could only be guessed at, but must provide some advantage to this beast.

William seemed to lose some composure, and ran forward a few steps.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he called.

Vic smiled at him. "Don't worry. It doesn't want to hurt me. Or you, for that matter. It wants something else." She was trembling in anticipation, but could not make any sudden movements; she didn't want to confuse this creature, who would certainly be capable of inflicting some injury if there was a misunderstanding.

Was she going to go ahead with this plan with an audience? William was standing sturdily just feet from her, eyeing the creature with frank disgust and fascination. This was no common ghoul after all. He was a good-looking man, broad and with strong features, his clerical clothes fitting his shape handsomely. Vic felt a heady sense of power at the idea of having him watch, and decided to see what would happen. She lowered herself to the ground and sat with her back against a large ceramic planter. Glancing at the priest, she saw his expression change to one of obvious confusion, and a thrill shot through her nerves. She splayed her legs apart, with her knees raised and boots flat on the stone.

The creature was nearly upon her now. The gurgling sound was almost like a voice, speaking in tongues from beneath a distant sea. Clear goo seeped across the paving stones before it, reaching the toes of Vic's boots. With mounting excitement, she saw the end of one long, thick tentacle begin to extract itself from the mass, and creep along the ground towards her. She looked back at the priest, whose mouth was now gaping.

"Father, don't be frightened." she coaxed. "I'm going to enjoy this. You can leave if you want to protect your sensibilities...but aren't you curious?"

Something seemed to click into place behind the priest's eyes. His mouth dropped wider still, and a flush sprang up on his cheeks. "What...?"

The tentacle was now snaking up Vic's right calf. She cursed her stockings for shielding her skin from the sensation of the cold, wet appendage. She noted that the tentacle came to a thin, rubbery point, not wider than a small coin. This tip reached the hem of her coat, and with deftness, flicked the coat open on both sides. It then had only a few inches further to creep up her leg before it reached the hem of Vic's Autumn-weight dress, which it pushed before it as it continued to climb. Her stockings were slowly revealed, further and further up; and then at last, at mid-thigh level, her bare skin. Vic kept her eyes on the priest as her dress was bunched up over her hips by the tentacle, her bare sex displayed in the night air. His eyes were glazing over in a most delightful way as he stared. She moved her attention back to the tentacle, already thoroughly lubricated at the thought of having an audience for what was about to happen.

The tentacle pulled back slightly, hovering, as if surveying the trembling vulva before it. And then it lowered its tip, with precision, and pressed into the sensitive folds. Vic's eyes rolled back in utter pleasure. This creature needed to feed off orgasms, and the preparation of her tender vagina felt well-practiced. The tentacle tip ejected some of the creature's slippery goo onto her outer lips. The goo ran glutinously down her vulva and pooled on the bunched fabric of her dress under her bottom. The tip then began to stroke and draw patterns on her swelling clitoris.

Vic delighted in the tortured look on the priest's face; he could not tear his eyes away, and she noted the growing presence of his erection.

Wanting to be gloriously naked and vulnerable to this monster, Vic pulled her arms out of her coat and tugged her heavy dress up over her head, flinging it to the ground beside her. Her full breasts immediately came to the attention of the creature, who raised another two tentacles towards her. Vic felt a surge of even greater arousal when she saw that these were tipped in pulsating suckers. The tentacles writhed through the air, dripping goo, and latched on to her nipples, sucking with a rhythmic squelching noise. The bliss was otherworldly, sitting back against the cold ceramic pot, with two tentacles sucking on her nipples, and a third flicking her clitoris. She laughed gleefully, and turned her head to the priest.

"This is how it feeds. This is my side of the bargain. Why don't you sit down with me?"

By this point, the priest's arousal was obvious, despite his dumbfounded expression. Vic waited to see what he would make of her invitation. Had she underestimated him?

He held her gaze for several seconds, seemingly frozen where he stood; but then, to her amazement, he stepped slowly over, and lowered himself next to her, leaning against the same huge pot. He looked now in unabashed fascination at the tentacles as they sucked and squirmed, but did not speak.

"It's hungry, you know..." teased Vic. She looked pointedly down at his bulging crotch, and grinned. The priest breathed out shakily.

"What should I do?"

"Just unbutton your trousers."

Slowly, he reached for the button of his black clerical slacks. A tiny moment's hesitation with his hands on the fabric...and then he slipped the shining button out of its hole. The folds of his fly lay open on his lap, black undergarments straining beneath, over his erection.

Immediately, the creature, looming over them, perceived that this was part of its offering. Another tentacle snaked across the stone and began to climb up the priest's leg. Vic observed the tentacle's tip. It was another voracious sucker.

"Oooh," she remarked. "You're going to enjoy this!"

He was breathing rapidly, watching in fear and arousal as the tentacle passed his knee, writhed up his thigh, and finally came to his open fly. It paused for a second, and the priest's tension was palpable. And then, in one deft movement, it whipped the undergarments down, causing his large erection to flop out, and the sucker slid determinedly onto his penis. It began pulsating at a steady pace, and the priest let out a loud moan, his eyes rolling back into his head. Vic laughed with the thrill of what she was seeing and feeling.

The tentacles sucked hard at the priest's erection, and at Vic's nipples. Another, fatter tentacle shot from the depths of the writhing mass, this one with a thick, ribbed and bulbous tip; it ploughed determinedly into Vic's vagina, and began to thrust in and out in time with the creature's sucking motions. Looking down at the base of the priest's penis, dripping with the goo of the sucking tentacle's opening, Vic saw that several small tentacles were caressing his testicles.

The priest and the monster hunter sat side by side in the churchyard, their moans intermingling, as they were pleasured by the huge, tentacled monster. The priest had begun to pant and buck his hips. Vic knew that the goal of the creature was to draw a flood of semen from his penis, and it had to be close. The tentacle was sucking at incredible speed, encompassing the entire shaft of his penis, making loud smacking sounds every time it drew the penis in. The base of the penis visibly stretched out each time, and Vic was sure it must be slowly elongating inside the tentacle with the vacuum force.

William was barely conscious of his surroundings, he was so overwhelmed with pleasure; his head was resting against the planter behind him, eyes rolling, a glimmer of drool at the corner of his open mouth. "What...is it doing...to my dick?!" he gasped between long exhalations. "It's - uh! - milking you," replied Vic, her own eyes difficult to focus as she endured the pleasure of the creature's attention. "It wants to -- mmmmm...make you produce a huge load of semen...it feeds off it..." "Unhhhh..." the penis-sucking tentacle had suddenly begun to pulsate at a faster rate. "It's so good...I won't be able to...help it!" Vic let out a high-pitched yelp as the tentacle attending to her engorged clitoris opened up a tiny sucker. It positioned itself delicately on the sensitive nub and began a steady sucking tempo. Meanwhile, the thick tentacle sliding in and out of her vagina inflated to a larger girth, stretching her slightly.

The creature worked on both of its feeders, who were each getting nearer their climax, and thus to satiating it. Vic wanted to watch William get milked of his semen; it was difficult to focus, but she waited, trying to keep her eyes from rolling back with the incredible sucking sensations she was feeling on her nipples and clitoris. And finally, she recognised his approach. His eyes opened wide, and he looked down at the tentacle encompassing his huge erection. It, too, must have sensed his plateau, for it began to pump up and down at speed, sucking so fast the movement caused his taut scrotum to jiggle wildly. He drew in a huge breath -- began to buck his hips -- and cried out so loudly it echoed off the stone walls around the courtyard. On and on he cried, staring wide-eyed at the tentacle, as it guzzled the largest load of semen he had ever produced in his life. The tentacle could be heard gulping several times. When he stopped bucking, and fell back limply against the planter, the tentacle released its hold and slid slowly off his penis, which flopped out and hung between his thighs, swollen and elongated, and utterly spent. The creature emitted an aura of satisfaction as the priest's semen slaked its appetite. It turned its full attention on the woman, whose fluids would be a suitable final course.