Please note that this work and future works are marked with an (R) to indicate sensitive and sexually detailed work.
It is mid October, when the cool fronts of winter begin to chill the very soul of the city. The vapor from the city sewers condenses and rises above the buildings like a cold fire providing a dampness that seeps to your very core. Streets clear as the homeless seek shelter and the inhabitants cater their thermostats as if life couldn’t exist without it. This wasn’t a pretty city; in fact, it was quite ugly. Run down homes fronted the drug runners and the users needles could be found stuffing garbage bins and street gutters. There were some nice areas outside the downtown core, but through the frost ladened glass of a single window, Benn Gray stared into the downtown’s barren, cold-foggy streets.
Benn Gray, like many of the inhabitants of this city, was a ghost with no social ties and a by-gone family. Because of this, the city was a mysterious place. Many highway overpasses, crooked alleys, and shop basements were unturned due to the lack of efficacy from police. Benn Grays whereabouts would never be questioned, nor would they ever be considered.
He was following a set of anagrams tagged in the darkest alleys where light could not shine. Armed with a flashlight, Benn was looking for purpose at rock bottom, grasping at a city myth that may have no factual merit. Benn was no junkie though, having been born in a middle class family with the luxury of education behind him. He had a fascination with this city and its dark undertow; something his family couldn’t come to understand when they moved back home abroad.
Turning away from the window, a cold cement basement fronts him with a single floor drain in the middle and a worn cot lays in the corner where he has slept a fortnight. There wasn’t anything else special about the house. Occasionally, squatters would use the abandoned upstairs; however, the basement door was sealed from Benn’s side. “Follow the message,” he reminds himself as he leafs through a pad of paper. “The goddess; a message; the man; an offering. Shackle your hopes until cold bears bone, a crumbling cell will give you home. Sign life under full moon sky; from wane to wax, your purpose shall extract.” As he ponders if there could’ve been anything he missed, the basement slowly falls a deathly black upon night. He’s chilled to the core even under the puffed winter coat he wears. The warmth of his breath freezes in front of his eyes as he flexes his fingers trying to keep the circulation flowing in them. From all sides, Benns senses are finally swallowed into endless space. The moon does not shine and just as it has completed its cycle, so has Benn’s to begin anew.
The energy in the air seems to die and his heartbeat throbs within his ears. He goes to turn on his flashlight, but the light finds no walls as if light itself is being swallowed. He tries to move, but his body doesn’t respond. Just then, high above him, a moon begins to christen the sky quite rapidly, exposing the world that would be around him. Slight shock strikes him as he witnesses men adorning a broken marble pathway; men bound in elaborate presentations; scant clad in vests, ropes, and gags. Great stone pillars reach up far above his head where dark figures with cat-like eyes stare down upon him. At the end of the path is an elaborate marble throne to which he stares at unconditionally.
Benn’s feet autonomously begin walking him down the marble path towards the throne; he doesn’t seem to have any control over himself. Inside, he feels such an overwhelming sensation of lust that he beads sweat and his heart beats so quickly he may as well be having a heart attack. The thick pressure within his arteries makes him tense and his eyes strain unable to look away from the figure that garnishes the throne.
Female figures catch the corners of his eyes, naked from head to toe. He cannot quite tell as his gaze is still cemented to what is in front of him, but their enchanting movements and features are far beyond human. They slowly begin peeling off his clothes as he walks. The long drag of his coat zipper seemingly sounds from within his head as hot breath and tongue grace his neck. His shirt is cut down the middle as more hands grasp at his pants. By the time he has reached the throne, Benn stands naked in front of what he now sees to be a demon.
“I am Lilith,” she says in a commanding voice that surrounds Benn. His knees even shake as the words seem to rattle his very soul. “First woman born of God and first cast from the gods likes. This is my domain; the domain of men’s disparage. Only those who make their sacrifice willingly will not find anguish in servitude. Crawl now under me and bear the privilege of being seed to my children.”
Benn collapses either in astonishment, or in fear. The hard marble crushes against knees as he stares up the steps towards Lilith now beckoning him with a sharp pointed finger. A cold collar is braced around his neck from behind and he shuts his eyes shuttering as the chain is drawn to length by Lilith’s beautiful demons. Leading with hand before knee, he hardly notices the pain as he is entranced by the cat-like eyes staring back at him. The demons hips sway in unison as he crawls; his naked body cold in this eternal night. Looking around, the other bound men eye him with haphazard looks as Lilith’s demons torture them. The cracking of whips sound out followed by the muffled groans of gagged men. Benn can make out that all of them have been chastised and can imagine what agony their bodies endure; what release they so yearn.
Now just a step before last, Lilith stands above Benn towering his belittled stance. Staring up to her, Benn’s body cannot help but be stirred by the sight that bestows him. The tips of Lilith’s horns catch the moonlight streaming a picturesque shine over her naked body. Red lips seem to pierce the dark and her attractive frame looks as if God spent more time sculpting her rather than the world. Beaming into her yellow cat-like eyes, Benn’s body is swayed into the goddess’s will.
“Take me,” he says. “I followed the clues; the clues your worshippers laid upon my world. I came here for purpose; make of me what you will.”
Lilith smiles biting upon her red lips with a fang. Benn’s head is turned by the soft hand of a demon and plunged into a euphoric kiss; her demon tongue pressing wildly deep in his mouth. The exchange of saliva marks his lips like fire only so briefly before the lips of another demon press into him. He feels a small sting as one bites against his sides tentatively–and yet another hand encompasses his now sorely stiff cock. As his tongue dances with the demons, he shuts his eyes in ecstasy losing track of the impossible amount of hands that couple him now.
As if all at once, the demons abandon Benn leaving him shivering on the cusp of orgasm. As he looks forward with begging eyes, Lilith forces Benn between her legs and instinctively he begins to lap at her clitoris like a dog. Lilith’s pleasure is ether in the air, driving men and demon into unparallel pleasure. Lilith moans and clasps Benn’s neck digging into him with her claws. As she does, the gags that shut the surrounding men are lifted and a cacophony of pain and pleasure light the eternal night.
Benn is infatuated. The taste of Lilith is a beautiful poison–like a drug releasing his entrapped desire. He flicks his tongue over and over against Lilith relentlessly even as his mouth tires.
Wrenched by the collar, Benn’s back is thrown over into the marble and is mounted quickly and deeply. His mouth drops open and he throws his head back with eyes closed as his cock permeates deep into this goddess. With a strong hand placed around his neck and another around his wrists high above his head, Lilith’s hips force Benn’s cock in and out of her furiously and harmoniously with her sounds of pleasure. Benn wants to cry out, but the clasp of Lilith’s grip forces his pleasure silent; a pleasure that bears too much for Benn forcing the release of his seed inside Lilith. Despite his release, Lilith still hones his body, grinding her body atop Benn as his cum lathers his now used and spent cock. It’s difficult on him to bear the overuse, but his desires remain, keeping him hard inside her.
It isn’t until Benn’s gaze deepens to black from his exhaustion does the unearthly wail of Lilith’s release pierce his soul. As if in unison, the demons around her drop to their knees, grabbing at their breasts; their pussies; their necks; anything to complement the ecstasy that they all seemed to share. The look of Lilith upon Benn etches into the fabric of who he is: her shivering, shimmering body in the moonlight as she stares up against the sky with his burning cock still draped entirely by her body. Benn now knows that through all his years of searching, she would be his intendment.