The Beasts

The air's, icy breath cascades down the side of the rocky face, biting the edges of my cheeks and tearing at my ears. My hands, even gloved, can barely move, and my legs stiffen under the weight of the frigid atmosphere. The lungs, heaving in my chest, are close to popping under the pressure. I cannot breathe.

I cannot breathe.

Let me just rest here. Here on the mountain.

My caravan of merchants was attacked by the darkness itself. It was a blur of carnage. I could not make out what had happened, nor does my mortal mind wish to. They were torn apart by the pitch of the air. I could not see.

I will rest here.

I will rest now.

No more. My vision blurs. There is a dark-cloaked figure above me.

I'm fading.

--

I awaken, warm and stinging. A fire licks the logs in the alcove.

Saved.

I can breathe, though I still ache. There are bandages on my wounds, so I obviously surmise that someone with a deep well of kindness and care—and basic skills as a healer—has treated me. Blankets atop me.

But who is my caretaker, my savior, my guardian angel?

This is but a den—this room—but magnificently decorated with ruby reds and glistening golds.

"Easy," a melodic voice sings to me, "You have a very strong will to escape the beasts of this mountain. Welcome to my home. Rest, weary traveler. You need not fret."

She sounds like sweet caramel melting over vanilla bean, ice cream. Her voice feels familiar though I know she is a stranger.

"Who..." I rasp, "Who are you?"

"I am Mallithica. But you may call me Mal, for I feel as if we shall be swiftly bonded."

Quite quickly, as my mind grasps to hold on to reality, I find I am naked under the blanket but for my bandages.

"My clothes. I'm sorry, milady. I do not mean to offend."

"I am not offended by your body. Quite the opposite."

I see her now, as I attempt to sit up on the carpet. I am dreaming now, surely, for I have never seen such a sight with my waking eyes. A woman with pale, sickly grey, smooth skin, completely nude, but for a black cape she wears that drips down to her feet. She is adorned with raven hair upon her head, arms, legs, armpits, and consuming her loins. Her eyes as stark and brilliant as bright moons, reflecting a whispering melancholy of a forgotten day’s sun.

"Would you like a libation to warm you and to quench your thirst? Surely the wicked wind has swept the water from your tongue." she asks.

"I am quite parched."

She hands me a thick, red wine, and I sip but choke. It tastes salty and metallic.

"Perhaps not yet," she says, "but it is all I have, I am afraid. Surely you are warm enough now with the fire."

She pulls at my blanket.

"I apologize. I seem to have misplaced my clothes," I object.

"I removed them. They are drying."

"You... You seem to have misplaced yours as well."

"I have no need," she whispers, "and soon neither shall you."

"I am not sure I understand."

"Let me show you."

Mallithica's body calls to me in a way I can't explain. I can feel a physical pull to be closer to her, and my member rises to meet her. She sits before me on the carpet and spreads her legs revealing a beauteous vulva, a diamond in a patch of wild, dark grass.

"Taste me. And I shall taste of you," she calls.

I don't know what compels me. My mind forgets its ties to polite society and launches into the wilderness of stars in the ink of the sky and the dreams that are born and die there. I crawl on my hands and knees over to her. There she is. Wet and gleaming in the flicker of the fire. I search forward with my tongue. She is slightly salty but also sweet. She smells like a wonderment of musk. Something like floral but creamy.

She shoves me away and closes her legs.

"No," she says. "Tease me first."

She opens back up, welcoming me.

I move down to her ankles, and I gently kiss all the way up one side, just a whisper of lips, breathing over her flower, as I move to the other. Slowly. Ever so slowly, I caress her with my lips, lingering just long enough to cause a wonderful frustration in her—as she desires—as I ascend her other leg. I kiss right on her bushel then up her belly to her chest. I kiss circles around her right nipple and then use my tongue to spiral around it. I suck, caressing her other nipple with my fingers. I kiss up to her neck and nibble her slightly.

"Yes," she calls, "Good."

But she says, ‘Good,’ as if it is merely adequate.

We kiss and there again is the taste of liquid metal and sea salt with a hint of strawberry and dark chocolate. I kiss all the way down to her sex and lap and her fantasticlysm. She has far more liquid now. Her walls are bursting, enflamed. I lick all the way up her pink, ballooning lips to her clit.

"Don't be afraid to be direct," she says. "I'm not too sensitive for that."

I lick upon her clit up and down, then side to side.

"Circles," she commands.

I obey. Circles around the hood. She moans.

"Yes. You are mine," she tells me.

She tastes amazing. I can't stop.

"Deeper now, lover" she calls again.

I move my tongue deeper and lick up to the clit just barely pinching the top with my teeth. And she loves that. God, she loves that.

"Baby, keep going," she moans.

I lick steadily at the same pace. Her breathing hastens.

"Right there. Right there, my pet. Lap me up. As if this is your last meal. Feast on me. Don't stop," she gasps. “There. Mm. There. Ah.”

She loses her ability to speak to me. She moans and writhes.

Her back arches. She cries out in fits, as she winces. She quiets. She cools, but still shakes a bit with fire still smoldering in her skin, as the tumult wanes.

"Again," she demands.

I continue, lessening slightly to build back up again. Her long nails claw at the carpet.

"God. Damn," she cries. "Deeper this time."

I go deeper with my tongue and back up to the clit and just under and inside it. She comes again, but this time her taste instantly changes flavor as she gushes on my tongue.

"Again."

My face is soaked in her love. Her smell is intoxicating. I don't stop. I don't think I'll ever stop unless she commands me. I am addicted to her nectar. But now my nostrils are blocked by her pubic skin. I can barely breathe through my mouth. I fear I shall suffocate, but this feels too good for her for me to stop, so I power through. I pop up slightly and breathe through my mouth quickly, like a swimmer surfacing. I wrap my lips all around her, spit and cum oozing everywhere. She comes again. A rattling harsh suck of air, a high pitched whine from her throat. A whinny like a steed. Her face scrunches together. A cry. An exhale, and then her body recoils from the sensitivity in her clitoris.

I love when she changes flavor right when she climaxes. It tastes even better. And the way she floods over my face with a little gush. Not squirting. Just coming. Beautiful. Though I would not even mind a volcano’s eruption on my face, if it came from her. Gush all over me. Squirt all over me with your geyser. I do not care. I will accept all your offerings. I will make many of my own before this goddess.

I would open my veins for her…

"I want you inside me," she tells me. "Now."

By now the tip of my rod is soaked with a cock-tear. The pre-love of my tower salivates and lubricates for her. My monolith meets her lily’s lips, as I rub my member’s head up and down and around her lower lips and clit. Then I slide myself in. God damn, it feels like Heaven. "Slowly," she instructs, "Slow and deep."

I grant her this wish. Slow and deep inside her. She lies flat, but I struggle.

"Let me raise you up," I tell her. I reach for two pillows on the couch and put them underneath her buttocks. I slide in, rubbing her clit with my thumb.

"Rub your clit while I touch you," I say.

"Are you commanding me now, king?"

"Yes, my goddess. I want to touch you elsewhere, all over your body, but I want you to come."

She obliges as I push into her, sitting up straight on my knees. She rubs her clit, while my right hand slides up her left leg.

"Yes," she moans.

Up and down. Up and down. Over and over. In and out.

I circle around her knee ever so gently, as she cries out, "I'm coming!"

She writhes, then falls back.

"Again," I command. "Come for me, my queen."

“Yes, my king.”

I slide my hand down her thigh to her pubes. I circle my fingers in her pubic hair over and over, for a beautiful eternity. She comes again. I slide my fingertips in circles around her stomach, tickling her. I can tell she is loving this, so I keep going. Just my fingertips. Just barely grazing her.

"Fuuuuuck," she comes again.

She keeps rubbing her clit, as my fingers slide over her nipple and around in circles. Once again, after a few minutes, she comes. I continue on her other nipple. "Oh, fuck," she erupts. “Gods!”

Just as she's about to come, I pinch and pull at her nipple, and by all the gods she loves it.

"Come here," she beckons.

I lower myself into her as we make love in missionary, and I kiss her deeply on her lips down to her neck.

She whispers in my ear, "I should have known you had stamina when you survived my beasts."

My heart skips a beat. Something shoves me upright and her legs wrap around me in lotus as she grinds into my pelvis. Gods, she feels so good. I'm close. I'm trying to breathe myself through the edge, but I'm not going to be able to do this much longer. I can feel the peak build, the pressure of the magma beneath.

"I have been searching long for someone like you," she sings. "Would you like to do this forever?"

"God yes!" I cry. My balls tighten. "I am going to burst. I am going to come inside you."

I try to pull out, but she grips me tighter.

“I am not letting you go. You are mine. This is my cum. My pleasure. My love. Give it to me. Fill me with your love.”

Then she whispers in my ear in a language I have never heard, before…

She bites me in the neck… and the pain mixes with pleasure.

But she bites too deeply.

"Ow! Stop!" I cry.

She doesn't.

She sucks at my neck, ravenous. She needs it. It fuels her. She is starving in this frigid hellscape without being touched the way she needs to survive.

It is so painful, but I would gladly give her my pain. I bleed for the goddess. It was my purpose in life. A life that flees, even as I try to pull away. I can feel the blood oozing out of me. I'm coming. I'm coming hard. It feels like a pandemonium of phenomenality, but it is as I am reaching my orgasm that I realize her cape was not a cape at all. They stretch wide, filling the room, a pair of great, black, leathery wings. I can tell she is trying to pull away from me, but it feels too good, and she grips me tighter, unable in her blissful haze to make the decision to let me live or to continue to achieve bliss through sustenance. It is a delicate balance, that is not for the sex-drunk kind.

She is crying now. Weeping. She lets out a muffled scream against me in agony.

I know she is sorry. I know she will beg forgiveness when I fall limp.

She hates herself for not being able to cease her feasting.

I can feel the life leaving me.

I am fading.

The room swims.

She cannot stop.

-

She cannot stop.

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END

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Originally written in 2021.

1st Edition: Published on Vocal Media in 2021.

2nd Edition: December 10th, 2025