“Flesh, Feast, Fornication” I’ll rip your soul from your body with my Savage Sexual Desires.
Mutilate you with my carnal affections, our bodies laid in waste by the red stained sheets.
Mingled Love, Mangled Lust a part of me is just not happy if you're not screaming in Terror by my Love.
Digging in the center of your chest stealing your heart, my occupation, heart collector, soul taster.
No need of running I'll find you, no need of hiding I'll sniff you out, and fighting me is nonsense, you are powerless.
The bedroom is a dark mysterious forest with no place for you to Escape only thing to do is lay and wait as your heart beats from the sounds from your bodacious breast.
Mighty war drums raging on the Warpath of Love, Blackfoot & Apache cries rain out as they run to the Call of “The Wolf”.
To fulfill my aching desire, I will give place to my lust and hanger, spread it slowly so I can gaze at your cheeks as they separate, looking at your Pussy lips glaze with your sweet essence. Warm cum oozing from your pussy you're anxiously waiting for my tongue to dive deep in your Delicious Hole. My Saliva runs hot while I go up and down your crack massaging your booty with my lips as I lick and kiss the inner flesh. Two Passionate fingers deep in your scrumptious pussy perfecting a good work as they move carefully in your tight pussy, it begins to "queef", clear juices flow down my wrist as my fingers continue to play in your pussy. Moaning is your only option, so moan for me, "don't say my name", but scream for the love and passion to grow as you feel the sensation of what is taking place. A love that has been cultivating for a chance to be released to suck up your Juices to taste your Nectar that lies within the booty, and I will give way to my hanger.
Your hands are not meant for me, though I’ve dreamt of them in places only touched by myself.
Characters: F!Narrator x M!Reader
Content Warning: Consensual Somno, Explicit Sex
Word Count/Genre: 1.4k, flash-fiction, erotica
Inspired/Prompted by: @henrymillertime
📷: Know the source of the photo above? Please let me know so I can photo credit.
I had lost track of the hours. The sound of the wind in the trees and the pounding of the rain against the panes of stained glass had drug me into sleep. Exhausted. Tired. Wet. The majority of my clothes I left to dry near the cast iron wood stove against the cabin wall. The hiking trail impassable until the deluge from the heavens found release.
How I must look to you, standing at the foot of this pine log bed. The first aid kit lying open at the end of the bed where I’d tended the abrasions on my left ankle. It was still puffy, angry, and propped haphazardly atop a rolled quilt. The rest of me lying akimbo, legs parted, the hunter green of my cotton slip bunched up around my thighs. The left strap hanging low on my arm, the material dipping off my breast, caught on the budded tip of my nipple. I writhe as the thunder rolls and vibrates the bed enough to make me sigh, hair fanned out atop the patchwork quilt, drying.
Your hands are not meant for me, though I’ve dreamt of them in places only touched by myself. The heat of your mouth and tongue something that curls with mine and teases, tastes other places, collects moisture and brings pleasure. I envy your lover or lovers. Their bodies not suffering the drought of your touch. I’d drink you like rain. Covet the sounds your pleasure makes when formed from your throat and lips.
Have you thought of me in such ways? Does my laughter linger after I’m gone? Do the passing conversations, brief touches…has any of that registered in the past year? When I brush against you in hopes of leaving traces of my perfume in exchange for ribbons of your cologne, do you know it’s mine?
The weight of your hand on my ankle pulls a shaky breath, the heat of your palm something that outweighs any pain or discomfort as I shift my body to ensure further contact, the hem of my slip hinting that there’s nothing beneath, only flesh. You’re focused or at least trying to be. Such a Boy Scout, but were you prepared for this?
You’re so thorough in your injury assessment. Your heated hands move up my leg as you inch onto the bed and between my knees. My breath seems to quicken, head moving side-to-side atop the blankets. You pause. Your hands past my knee and midway up my thigh. Your grip tightens. I arch in response. What’s on your mind? Your hands are shaking. My legs part, letting the soft folds of my slit play peek-a-boo, glistening, wet.
You make a sound in the back of your throat. Your eyes now focused on how I look, exposed and wanting. Is your mouth dry? Do I smell familiar? I’ve spent a year in your company, leaning in to you to be overheard over our mutual friend group in loud spaces, the scent of me worn behind my ear, my neck, and the inside of my wrist so you’d grow accustomed, familiar.
I know, you’re torn. Such a terrible position to be. I have seen you with others. Though, I don’t know how deep your feelings run for them. People align themselves for a variety of reasons, most of them stemming from loneliness. Are you lonely? I have spent a year of soft yeses for every no or rejection you’d been given.
Soft yeses…a word I whisper as you’re struggling to cover me, over touching me, exploring me. It doesn’t feel right. To touch without being asked. Taboo. Again, the thunder rolls, the rain hammers against the roof and walls demanding entrance. I’m open and demand entrance. The vibration of the bed and heat of your hand on my thigh, squeezing; pulls the softest moan. When your index finger trails along my soft folds I bite my bottom lip and am desperate for your touch. Are you surprised at the wetness on your finger? The quilt beneath me is already damp. “Please…” I murmur, hips grinding against the bed. Will you touch me again?
The sound you make above me makes my toes curl. My legs part wider, spread-eagled and inviting. Your thumb moves along my clit as your eagerness pushes a finger into me, followed by a second and third. I gasp, shuddering as you spread and fill me, eyes opening to find yours. Your fingers curl, thrust. And your mouth. Your sweet and beautiful mouth, now lowers to drink, suck, and lick wildly between my thighs; fucking me with fingers and tongue.
There’s a quiet desperation in the way you touch me and how I’ve craved you for a year. A year of dancing on the fringe of your vision. My hands curl in the quilt above my head as I feel your free hand yank me roughly against your mouth, rising, chin glistening as our eyes meet, “Cum for me.”
Three words given as a command over request. And your mouth was again on me, demanding my surrender as I began shuddering by the pleasurable punishing rhythm of your fingers as they sank into me repeatedly, your pinky teasing my puckered rim, until it too allowed you entrance. Full. Filled. Your freehand was almost painful in its grip on my hip as you shoved me down on your fingers and tongue. Your greed for me leaves me without breath.
When you are satisfied and my body feels exhausted by the assault of your mouth and tongue, you toss your clothes to the floor. My hand finds your cock and strokes, wanting to memorize the feel of your flesh and the way your pre feels on the pad of my thumb and slicks my palm. I love how you harden and throb in my hand.
There’s so much to explore. I want to make maps, burn them, and create them again. Your kiss is rough as you push the taste of me onto my tongue so I know how I taste when you make me cum. My cries are muted as you tug away my hand and enter me. There is no gentle as your hands gather my wrists and pin them overhead. Your mouth something that nips and kisses, biting where neck meets shoulder intent to leave your mark as your body seems intent on driving me into the mattress.
I wrap my legs around your waist and welcome the way your hips slam into mine. My slip still between us in some places. Pinned and fucked. Our breaths as wild, my cunt feels more like a second mouth that tries desperately to keep you rooted inside me. I have lost track of the times I’ve cum. My mind is blanking, I’m light-headed, drunk on you and the way your hands squeeze my tits, tug and twist my nipples. My body a prism of ecstasy that is trapped beneath the weight of yours.
And just as I think you’ve reached the precipice, you pull out, something that makes me claw at your back until I feel you haul me off the bed and turn me on my stomach. Your left hand winds in my hair and pushes my head onto the bed as your right arm snakes under my waist and hauls up my hips as your cock fills me again. I am panting from the sheer force of your thrusts, as my ass cheeks warm from the solid smacks of your hand.
I am shaking. Dripping. You haul me up by my hair against your chest. I don’t think my legs will hold, but you imprison me against you as you grab a tit and whisper against my ear, “Cum.”
Your right hand reaches between my legs to smack and flick my clit as you continue to thrust your cock inside me. My cunt is aching, I can feel each throb and pulse of your hardened flesh as you ram against my cervix. My thighs are sticky, wet. Your repeated command leaving me nearly limp in your grasp. The last one is mingled with quiet praise followed by hot threads of cum, that paint the inside of my quivering pink walls, as our juices mingle and flow along my thighs to darken the quilt beneath us.
My body is covered in your touch, both inside and out. Will you take your leave now? We haven’t spoken. Too tired. Spent. You're holding me. I holding you. Outside the storm continues to shake the bed. I wonder, as I slip lower on your chest, trailing kisses past your navel, feeling you tense. I relish the sound pulled from your lips when my tongue takes it’s first sample of the tip of your cock, wondering now, after this night if it’ll be harder to live knowing your touch than it was living without it. But for now, I’m going to drink you like rain and sate my thirst for you.
I remember that day like it was yesterday. The day I've met the greatest beauty of my life; the prettiest doll my eyes have ever gazed upon.
You were sitting alone on an isolated bench in a section of the park that was hidden from the casual strollers' eye. But you were lucky enough to meet me;
habitual frequenter of that little green spot in the heart of our forsaken town.
As soon as my sight caught a glimpse of your loveliness; I wasn't able to resist the urge to make you even prettier than you already were.
But I had to be careful: I knew you wouldn't, just like most ordinary humans, understand my appreciation for the aesthetics; and my will to improve
such already existing qualities.
So, I approached you with all of the caution I was capable of.
"Do you mind if I sit here, pretty girl?"
I kindly asked. Your face possessed the delicate features of a porcelain doll; such a small pointy nose, bright red lips and beautiful, big blue eyes that reminded me of an unpolluted ocean in all of it's crystal purity. Your cheeks turned red, but your answer was affirmative.
As we lovably chatted, the wind blew through your gorgeous blood red hair, which was cut in a lovable bob.
It looked so pretty on your thin figure; adorned by an adorable pair of small breasts and a belly flatter than paper itself.
And what can I say about your legs?
I normally don't pay any attention to one's limbs; but your legs were so perfectly proportioned to the rest of your body, that they were impossible
to miss.
You wore no makeup at all, something I truly admire.
Our conversation lasted for hours, and having the sun already started to set, I invited you to have dinner at my humble house. Hesitant, you
accepted, and my heart was more than relieved. As soon as we arrived I quickly turned on the stove to prepare you a delicious meal:
pork meat accompanied by roast potatoes and red wine.
While I was cooking you sat at the table in silence; shyly looking at me, with your lips having turned into a timid smile. It didn't take much for the
meat to get ready for eating. During dinner I explained you how humans possess the skill of improving things, just like I improved the meat by cooking it;
making it much richer in taste and nutritional value. You listened to me fascinated by my ideas, but our dinner abruptly came to an end as soon as you sipped the wine.
You gently fell, but I was there to sustain you. The sedatives had done their job; I picked you up and rushed to the lab in my basement. I quickly cleaned the operating table of all the medical supplies I had put there and layed you upon it. I slowly took off your clothes and revealed your gorgeous body. I couldn't contain myself from caressing your tits, so warm, soft and helpless in my hands.
As my excitement grew I moved my hands down from your chest towards your thin belly, which I happily stroked like you’d do with the back of a cat, too bad you didn't purr. I wasn't able to resist the sweet scent of your vagina, I moved my hand upon it and started to pet it. You quickly got wet; the sexual aroma
filled the entire room as I gently explored your genitals, touching your outer and inner lips, massaging your clitoris and kissing your vulva.
In your sleep you started moaning while my penis started getting harder and harder. I took off my pants, moved your head to the side and thrusted my cock into
your mouth, filling it whole. I thrusted and thrusted and thrusted; faster and faster and faster, my mind got blank except for the ecstasy your body was giving me.
Out of pure greed I decided I wanted more, and moved your lower half towards the edge of the table.
I spread your legs open, took my dick in my hands and stuffed your pussy. Again I thrusted and thrusted and thrusted; faster and faster and faster.
Your dick-smelling mouth started moaning even harder than before; as I was pounding inside of you, you started orgasming. Oh, what beautiful sounds you made!
those were the heavenly sounds an angel would produce; as I looked down I even noticed blood going out of your tight hole: you were a virgin, so pure, so delicate, and I had the honor of making you perfect!
I pushed my cock inside of you one last time, and filled your pussy with my hot semen. I took one last look at your genitals spitting out my white seed; and I happily proceeded with the rest of the operation. I didn't care enough to put my genitals back in place; I grabbed the bonesaw with my cock still dangling out of my pants, and began cutting away your left arm.
Once more I moved faster and faster and faster; as the smell of fresh blood replaced the lovely scent of your vaginal juices; making my mind descend into the abyss that many call depravity, even though I prefer the term “enlighted by beauty”. Joy filled my soul as, with the help of a meat cleaver, I chopped away your now useless arm. But don't you worry, as I will preserve in ice.
I had cut only the lower part of your limb, just like the procedure required.
I knew I had to stop the bleeding, but first I had to satisfy the thirst that was haunting me. I placed my hand right under your wound, filled my mouth
with the warm red liquid pouring out of your arm, and my penis got hard again. I rubbed it against the bleeding limb, which made my ecstasy grow exponentially.
I had to stop the blood from flowing, so I took the blowtorch from a drawer under the operating table and used it to cauterize the wound.
The wound didn't look pretty this way; I opened another drawer to grab a prosthesis, an empty black cylinder with an opening on top and a rounded end;
I put your arm inside of it and it fit just fine, like a second skin.
I was impatient to see you perfected though, so I chopped the other arm with the cleaver right away, but I still took the time to appreciate your sufference with my tongue, drinking as much blood as possible.
I would have wanted to jerk my cock and cum on your wound, oh, how happy would it have made me! Sadly, I just can't risk an infection taking the life of one of my precious dolls. I cauterized this arm as well and put it inside of another prosthesis.
I then moved to the legs; and even though I kind of liked them I was still required to complete the process. I'm definitely not the kind of man who doesn't finish
what he starts.
For this exact reason, the desire to see you reach peak beauty and make you shine like silver, finally unlocking the your true potential as an artistic creation.
I held the cleaver up, violently chopped away your legs and repeated the operation once more; although I regret not taking the time to play with your legs your legs too, I would've
loved to put my dick between your thighs and used them to masturbate me, until I'd have let out a spray of my sweet hot cum all over you, covering you in white.
We were almost done, only one step was left in the creative process of crafting a fine doll: I had to take away your five senses, this way you wouldn't had any way of distracting yourself
from the pleasure I wanted to give you. I had designed myself the piece of machinery able to conduct such a delicate operation, it was (and still is) my greatest pride.
It consisted of a long metal arm with a whole set of scalpels at it's end; while the other end was attached to a red cube with a set of wheels, inside of which was located
the main hardware that controlled the robot.
I watched the blades precisely making their way through your tender flesh, cutting away one by one the nerves that controlled your eyes, your eardrums, your nose, even the simple
feeling of touching had to go away for you to be considered truly perfect. But one sense you deserved to keep, taste; as no doll would be a real doll if it couldn't taste it's owner's
cum.
As soon as the machine was done stitching your wounds, i grabbed, placed you on a chair and contemplated the final product.
I was astonished.
I almost began to cry at the mere gaze of the delicate aesthetic of your body, no words would ever be enough to fully describe how beautiful you became; I had never been so proud
of my work before. You represented the peak of my career, I could've died that night and I would had done so with a quiet smile on my lips, having reached the highest point of my
life.
My work wasn’t over yet, though. You still had one virgin hole: your anus.
So I bent you over, pushed my erect cock against your tiny hole and penetrated it. Tears fell from your eyes as the pain reached your brain but didn't find it's way out of your mouth,
having you lost the ability to speak.
I'll always be thrusting and thrusting and thrusting inside of you; and I won't stop going faster and faster and faster.
Not until the day death will tear us apart, my sweet dolly.
A little exercise in the noble art of ero guro nansensu I wrote a few nights ago instead of sleeping. Btw, english isn't my main language and I usually prefer using italian, so I apologize for any mistakes I might've made. I should drink more and write less lmao
