In The Library Ch. 08

Following the nightmare encounters with Grace in my home town (corrupting my memories of B and invading my parent's home like a monstrous orphan cuckoo) I was keen to hurry back to the southern city. I could not face my parents after fucking my father in the ass and drinking my mother's impossible twenty years too late milk, and the vision of Grace, bloated and leaking, was more than I could handle. So I made my way south by bus and road - I didn't want to find myself on the fifty year old train either, even though the night attendant had been beautiful and gentle and that time with her at least was good. But the man on the run, and it had to be me - I just didn't want to know.

So I was now back in the residential hall, wondering what the hell I was going to do about this nightmare. For I knew beyond a doubt that she would come for me again, in some new manifestation. I also had a bad bad feeling deep in my guts that time was going to twist in on me again, without warning, and I was going to discover more than I wanted about me on the run. So I figured that I needed to arm myself with information. If I could get ahead of Grace in terms of knowledge, I might be able to escape this nightmare. But shit, I would miss the perverse, dark sex....

Old Mack would be no good - the old fart was too addled in his brains to be reliable, and I had gone through the papers in the university library, but there were no further clues there. I had to find another, richer source of information. The city central library on the south side of the lake should hold the answers. On this late winter day, the sun was bright and the air still, so it should be a pleasant enough walk.

I made my way down to the concrete arching road bridge which crossed the lake, its opposite end delivering traffic and pedestrians to the big library, like some great temple. As I crossed the bridge, I heard a weird pulsating song from the waters below. At first, I could not work out what it was, and then I realised that it was the song of starlings nesting on the ledge under the bridge, their song bouncing off the water, the wind blown ripples setting up the strange acoustic. Damn, did the little fuckers, never mind how sweet their song was, did the little feathered fuckers know it was me? Or were these birds untainted by Grace? I could only hope - but Mack's words came back to me, "more fuckin' birds in this town than I've ever seen before." Damn birds, worse than the bloody Hitchcock film.

Still, it was broad daylight, so maybe the sun would keep me safe. Grace seemed to prefer the gloaming and the dark. But I had to get to the archives, I had to find out about Grace, her family and her life. Maybe if I knew something about her life, there would be some clues about her death. Birth records, that should do it.

After a couple of hours, including chatting up the old librarian there, I discovered that Grace and her sister (for the two girls in those old papers were indeed sisters) were born late to the family. Grace's mother had been about 38 when Grace was born, 40 when her sister Emily was born. Bit old, for a first born, I would have thought. Maybe that is what shit loads of money bought you, back in those days. I sat looking out the high windows making a few notes. On the lake a group of elegant black swans swam past, S necks gracefully bent. Oh fuck, that is probably not good, not good at all. But my betraying prick pulsed, knowing that whatever manifestation was about to happen (of course it was about to happen) would be hugely powerful. Fucking big birds, swans.

But as always, I had no idea how she would manifest herself, just that she would. It was still daylight, and the swans were distant on the lake, so it was difficult to see where she would come from, or even if it would be immediate. Maybe if I stayed here for a while, grabbed myself a bite to eat, and a coffee, and wait until I could not see the birds? I did not think, not now, that I would be able to avoid her, but maybe I could delay her. Somehow. At that moment, I heard the squeak of a trolley wheel and the lurch in my guts that had happened before, and I knew that something was upon me. The Library was deathly quiet, time and place shifting, slowing, and re-starting.

The cold steel key in my pocket, oh fuck that was not there before, the cold steel key - so I was once more thrown back in time and was the watched man, once more. And I was now in a different place - because the central library wouldn't be built for several decades - but I had no idea of the geography of this town in its early days, so the place was strange.

"Come with me, dear boy." A husky voice, deep and sensual, beckoned me from the shadows. And from a dark corridor, a tall dark woman with spectacular tits, raven black hair (or should I say, swan black hair, because of course this was Grace), long to her waist. Her waist, impossibly small, as if clinched in by a corset. Her magnificent hips swung as she strode towards me, and her thighs were long and firm, in a flowing skirt. She was statuesque, Amazonian, her rich chocolate dark skin almost lost in the shadows. She was tall, splendid, radiating power. Jesus, had her feeding brought her to this? Did her magnificent, terrifying strength have the ability to cross time and to chase me down through time?

I did not have much of a choice here - the power in her voice was commanding, and I knew that if I looked into her eyes I would be commanded. So I tried to keep as much of my self as I could - I looked past her, focusing on the wall behind her head. "Where are we, where are we going?"

"In the time when I died, but not in the place." Her voice was now harsh and guttural, so I knew once more she was some horrific mix of swan and woman, and not all Grace. Some part of the animal possessed the woman, just as some part of the woman possessed the bird. "I need to know, boy, who you are."

So she didn't know all there was to know about me.... My brain feverishly thinking how I could use this to my advantage, I turned and walked beside her down the corridor. Hell's teeth, she was as tall as me, her head at the same level as mine, ducking under the same lintels. But her legs were impossibly long, her waist inches higher than mine, her splendid hips brushing mine. And despite myself or because of myself, my prick started to throb and fill.

Finally the corridors ended and we came into a room, surrounded on three sides with tall windows, the fourth wall centred with the door through which we entered. In the middle of the room stood a high four poster bed, shackles (oh fuck, shackles...) hitched to chains, luxurious velvet covers and pillows, and above, a skylight. I could see the sickle of the moon high in the black sky, a single brilliant star below its arc. Excited and terrified in single measure, I turned to her and grasped her face in both my hands and pulled her lips to mine. If I could avoid her eyes, and try to match her strength for strength, I might be able to make some monstrous bargain.

And her lips were full and her tongue was long and hot as we thrust into each other's mouths. My tongue pushed hard between her tight, flush lips; and I sucked her top lip into my mouth and then her luscious bottom lip. Each soft lip was full like some exotic fruit, and I bit down into the flesh, grazing the plump flesh with my teeth. My hands went behind her head and my fingers filled with the long dark weight of her hair, flowing like slow black water through my fingers, wrapping around my arms like silk. Her hands, cold long fingers, caressed the back of my head and traced down the back of my neck, hands holding heads, tongues exploring mouths, noses bumping noses as we kissed each other, hard.

And my hardening prick pressed its heat against the top of her thigh. Her firm breasts squashed warm against my chest, the fleshy globes firm and full, my chest tight and flat against them. And our bellies pressed hard against the other and I felt a throb of heat and firmness against my gut, but wait, my cock was against her thigh, what ridge was that?

But her hands swooped to the buttons of my shirt, black nailed fingers pulling on the small circles and flicking them through the holes. She peeled the shirt from my back and down my arms, casting it to the floor. She raked her long nails down my chest, scratching against my peaking nipples and sending a line of thrilled goose bumps down my arms. With a quick movement, her hands grasped the muscles of my back, and she pulled me to her. The bare sensitive skin of my chest was pressed up against the soft silk of her blouse, and I could feel the ribs of her corset press up against my own ribs. Skin against silk against bone against flesh, the materials pressed to each other and into each other, her full firm breasts pressed to my chest.

And then she pushed me away from her with one arm, the other hand quickly flicking her own pearled buttons open so that the dark silk of her top spilled open, revealing the rising moons of her breasts, thrust up high in the cups of a whalebone corset, her breasts high and proud, cleavage deep and long. The flesh from the top of her breasts to her long throat was gloss black and glistening, impossible darkness on any human girl, but then she was not fully human, not fully a woman, not wholly a girl. My hands loosened her black silken hair and found the ties of the corset at her back, and loosened those ties until the tight strictures of velvet and bone and cord fell away and from her body.

Her magnificent proud breasts barely fell under their own weight, they were so high and proud. The big nipples, areola wrinkled around, stood erect maybe half an inch, and my mouth fell greedily on one and then the other, my tongue swirling around the hardness, and the tight black buds seemed to swell in my mouth. I suckled on those big fleshy nipples, urging them to fill my mouth, pulling them long and full. Grace crooned with the suck of me, her hands now caressing my hair once more, pulling me deep onto the firm cushion of her flesh. As I was now arched over her high breasts, my tight cock was no longer against her belly, so I shifted until that hot ache was against the side of her leg, pressing there.

My hands lowered to the top of her long skirt, and I pulled away at the buttons at the back of it until it too fell to the floor. Her strong torso, huge breasts full and hard, big big nipples thick and thrusting, narrowed to her slender waist. I gazed down her long legs, long and black and clad in lace stockings, straps and clips to her garter belt, black lace against black flesh, the magnificent round globes of her ass taut and tight, covered by the thin cloth of her black lace knickers. And we swivelled front to front, and my hard prick pressed the cloth of my trousers against the hardness of her belly, and she arched her body to mine, and again I felt that throb of hardness against mine.

Again she twisted away from me, and one hand, incredibly strong, grabbed my wrist and she said, "get onto the bed, sweet boy," her voice now high and light, the voice of my B and the fond words of that girl. And with a last coherent thought - the bitch has stolen my first young girl - a rage came upon me and I struggled hard against her black muscled strength. But she was too fast, too quick, too strong, and she pushed me to the bed and snapped one wrist into the shackles there. With a pounce she pulled my legs and feet flat to the mattress, stretching my body and arms long, upreached to the chains. And her strength subdued me, and she pulled the trousers away from my legs, throwing my pants to the floor. I heard a soft thud as the pocket covered key hit the timber boards, but then I was naked, held tight in her grasp, limbs stretching along the bed. She shackled my other wrist to the head of the bed, and my body lay helpless, at her will.

With my face to the pillows, my body long and stretched before her, my wrists shackled in chains above my head, I realised that she had me before her as I had had her long body before me, that night in the clock tower. That night when she had come to me with her head swivelling owl eyes, my prick deep in her ass and her convulsive gut churning passage of my own seed into my own mouth. And I remembered then how she had relaxed and softened under my caresses and my long prick, my tongue deep into the dark musk heat of her. And I thought, maybe if I soften and relax under her as she had under me, maybe she would remember my gentleness and the hot probe of my tongue. And maybe she would be kind, not monstrous.

As I felt her hair caress my back, I made my body relax and spread, my legs widening against her strong legs. Her long fingers raked through my hair and sharp nails traced down my back, her hot lips on my neck. "Sweet, sweet boy, let me love you like you loved me, be my boy." Her voice, B' s voice, thrilled my ears, tricked my brain, whispered her soft endearment into my stupid skull. "I want to know you, sweet boy, know you."

Ah, good God, how could I resist such seduction? Trapped in her shackles, I melted below her, my mind entranced and lost inside her endearments. The bitch, just the tone of her voice destroyed my will to resist. And she lay her long black body along mine, her hard breasts pressed to my back, her firm thighs gripping my legs, her groin pressing down hard against the cheeks of my ass. And again I feel a hot heat from her, ridged into the crack of my ass.

And again, before I could make sense of that heat, it was gone, and my ass cheeks were spread wide, and her hot tongue licked right over the pucker of my back bud, my hot hole, my ass hole. My legs spread wide, my ass globes hauled apart by her strong hands, her hot mouth opened and sucked my balls, one sac first, then the second, swelling into her mouth. Her teeth nibbled against the shifting and tightening delicacy of my testes, and her long tongue pierced my puckering star, thrust past the tight sphincter, deep into the heat of me.

Quivering with the delight of her tongue in my darkest place, I arched up my hips to open myself more to her, and to release my prick from the sheets wrapped below me. My fingers rippled helplessly on the sheet above my head and I gave myself up to her sweet caress, the heat of her, her delicate fingers tracking over my helpless body like water over a stone in a river. Moans of pleasure filled the room, my moans muffled by the pillows, her sighs crooning and keening as she crawled over me, her tongue and lips and mouth hot around my skin.

And then she was away from me, her strong hands grasping my ankles and flipping me onto my back. My rigid cock snapped up against my belly, throbbing to my heart beat, fluttering with the sensations lingering on my skin from her hands and tongue. And she stood above me at the end of the bed, tall and spectacular, black as midnight, proud as hell. Her full high breasts heaving, thrusting hard nipples big and long, darkness even darker surrounding each long nub. And her long, long throat and her long face and her blackest black eyes reared high above me and with a langorous slow smile she gazed deep into my eyes. And I was lost. My mind, feebly trying to look away so it would not be entranced, became enslaved because I could not look away. Her power and dark black beauty held me tight to her will. And she stood tall above me and my eyes travelled down her exquisite body.

Her full, splendid breasts, those tight and hard nipples, now threaded with a tiny trail of milk - because every succubitic summoning was about feeding - me on her horrendous mothering teats and she on my seed in a never ending sucking and cunting exchange of life giving fluids. And my entranced eyes drifted lower to her tiny waist, and then full hips girdled around with a garter belt, long straps down to intricate laced stockings. And at the long base of her belly, sheathed in the black lace on black skin of her knickers, throbbed a rising rod of her own.

She slowly, ever so slowly, caressed her hands over her high tits, tweaking her nipples twisted with her fingers, caressing down the curves of her ribs and belly and mound, and she slid the final swathe of cloth down her long legs, until she stood proud and triumphant and nude above me. And her impossible girl cock stood tight and thick and long against her belly.

And I knew then that she was going to plunder my deep channel, dark into the depths of me just as I had sunk my prick to the core of her, and as I had sunk my long oedipal prick to the core of my father; and as she did so she would suckle me to her breasts just as I had suckled at my mother's full milk sodden and seeping tits. And I wanted her to. I wanted her to do that long slow thrust deep into the guts of me, as I had done into her, and as I had done into my father in that dark moment in my home town. It was only right that she should have the same pleasure in my ass as I had had in hers.

So I thrust my body and hot hole up to her, and her wet mouth clamped to my ass hole and her long tongue exquisitely pierced me and probed me and flickered long and hot and wet, tongue fucking into me. I couldn't help but push back onto her face, and I was growling with pleasure and my cock was rigid and full and pulsing. And again I felt the suction of her deep mouth on my rising balls as she suckled on them, tremors of pleasure running through me.

"Fuck me, beautiful bitch, fuck my ass hard, take me deep, fuck your long prick deep, deep into me, ah, yes, now." I cried out to her, begging, and felt her strong hands pull my cheeks wide, exposing my pulsing puckering hole to her hot breath. And then her long finger pressed hard into me, opening my tightness, and I gripped that thrusting digit, pulling her finger deep into me. And she set up a short swift fuck with that finger, preparing me for that bigger shaft, her other hand upon my prick, stroking it long and slow. And deep inside me I could feel my exquisite heat and red churning centre begin to milk the semen from deep in my aching balls.

And then her finger pulled out and popped out of my tight channel, and I was a void inside, empty, just begging to be filled again with a bigger thing. She slurped a great gob of spit from her mouth onto my hole, and her fingers reached up to my mouth for my spit too, and I could feel a body hot cream which must have been milk seeped from her breasts, and she mixed the whole wet mess to my crack and the centre of me, and then my cheeks were held wide with both her strong hands and her hot prick head was upon my ass hole, and then her hard hot weight was pressing her long hot cock past the tight muscle.

Oh my sweet fuck, she was pushing into me, spreading me. Ah fuck, my fucked ass was pushed hard and hot and pulsed against that thickness and my body lurched back against hers and my tunnel pulsed up against that throbbing, relentless heat as I was slowly oh so sweetly fucking slowly opened up and was entered into and filled and fucked and the fullness, oh God, the fullness fucked into me, my ass opening up like my own sweet cunt as she possessed me, and her long low deep voice crooned, swooned, "ah, now you're my ass cunt fuck hole, deep hole, take me deep, sweet boy, take my seed my blood my heat," each word a thrust of her cunting long prick, wet and deep and full.

Oh fuck, I was filled, and still the weight and spread into my ass continued, until with a lurch she was fully settled in the deep guts of me. I could smell the sweet sex scent of our rutted bodies, joined tight. I clenched my ass muscles, gripping her long prick and stopping her movement, and then, when I relaxed, I could feel my hole suck her in some more. And we slowly pulsed and gripped each other, my ass tunnel filled and full, her thick heat gripped in me. And we fucked slowly against each other, each throbbed hard pulse opening me up some more.