by E M Beastly
I couldn't move, I wouldn't breath. If they were to see me, what would that mean? I had little time to ponder that idea further. The scene heightened in sexual promiscuity. The beast drove his monstrous tongue deep through the lips of her lovemaking orifice; making a squirting, squishing sound the likes I had never heard before. Saliva and pussy juices glinting brightly as the moon's rays reflected off the flow to make it look as if a stream of liquid silver streamed down her inverted body. And when his cock began to lose its limp and elastic nature, slowly growing stiff and strong up and outward like it was when he was but a stoic statue, is when I saw her face.
It was for only a moment, but it was long enough to finally verify that this woman, this beauty in the hands of this beast, was Kalina. I don't know how I didn't recognize her body; I had painted it and its naked perfection only hours earlier within the study she had granted me. More questions raced through my already befuddled mind. How and when did she beat me here? Was this her plan, to lure me into this... well whatever this was? That means she is expecting me. Did she know I was already here watching? I became more afraid of the piercing glances I thought shot my way. Did she see me, did she already know I was there, or was she still waiting for me to arrive as she wondered if I would make through with the task she gave me?
Then her face became obscured again. The other girls went back to sucking, licking and nibbling on the black horse's shaft. They were all very excited that he now was seriously ready to begin his mating frenzy, and wanted to suck the first bits of bubbling cream from him before it injected it inside of Kalina. I knew she would be the first to take him, the first to have that entire monstrous manhood throb inside herself. It was obvious she was the leader of this pack.
For now it was an oral orgy, though I think this equine creature was getting the better deal. No matter how big, fat or juicy his tongue was, or how good he was twisting it inside of Kalina, he had four seductive women polishing every inch of his manhood. But then again, he had a lot of meat that required attention, so perhaps it took him four just to please his monstrous desires. Kalina worked his base and balls as best she could while upside down and under the pleasing power of his tongue. The other mysterious three did most of the heavy work. I could see the darkest haired one was working on the fat, flared tip. I could not see her face or lips; her face still in shadow like all the others. It was not hard to tell that she made progress swallowing the head. How she did it, I couldn't tell; it was just another magic trick from the night's lascivious show.
Darkness and silver moonlight, what a hell of show; I was mesmerized by the chiaroscuro of the scene. Oh how I wanted to paint its likeness. If I had my easel and brushes, I sure would have tried. I never was one that could master that technique. And here, in the weird and lewd magic of this night it was pulled of perfectly before me. Some unexplained force was keeping me from seeing all the details. Nonetheless, I was getting enough, and at the right moments to make me want to applaud this seemingly well choreographed scene of sexual theatrics.
It also made me think about why they were doing this now. It was all for me. Kalina had planned this and waited for me to make my appearance. She was odd and strange, and I knew she had lied to me about this place. Nonetheless, I would never have guessed this. I could tell she was scanning out into the wilderness wanting to see me. Sometimes I was afraid she was looking right at me. Yet, there were hints in her gestures that suggested she was still waiting. I hoped she believed I had chickened out and went the long way home. I hoped she wouldn't see me because I was afraid of what that would entail. I didn't have much cover and I dared not use any light say that produced by the moon. My only chance was to hope they never see me, as I stay hidden and quiet until the very end. That required me to stay and watch this carnal scene. Maybe I would gain some useful knowledge about my friend. Really, however, I knew I was learning things I didn't want to know; things that haunt me still.
The ebon beast with his mighty equine head continued to lick and suck on Kalina as if she was a water well. The juices he made from his endeavors only increased in volume, while Kalina found it harder to concentrate on wetting down his balls. The loss of blood flow to her head probably didn't help matters. Her three helpers picked up her slack. It took all three of them to match the amount of glistening juices rolling down Kalina's body. It wasn't all horse saliva that pooled underneath both her breast before trickling down like a falls up through cleavage and down onto her chin. I saw her squirt a little, just once or twice. I know because their sudden occurrence surprised the beast, causing him to shake his head and nicker whilst he recover from the juicy burst in his mouth. Kalina was showing a grandiose resilience to these orgasms, for she continued to be the ever dark and stoic presence hanging by his strong grasp.
He, however, did not show such restraint. I could see the girls whipping him into frenzy. His body swayed, his hips thrust into the air between the girls heads and he was making soft whimpering like noises. All these things got stronger, until at last, he could not contain himself and burst out a stream of cum that resembled liquid moonlight. It was a Herculean spray worthy to the beast's size and stamina. Five powerful squirts came from him. Each one caused his cock to twitch and flick from the powerful muscle spasm of his ecstasy. The girls almost had to get out of the way lest his cock in violent action club them. When his cock was done, and all were finished being amazed, it went flaccid again. All the girls took the opportunity to rest during this intermission.
Kalina was eased from her position and placed somewhere close below him. The three other girls helped him do this and clamored over her body. I couldn't see what they were doing, nor could I hear what they whispered. Nonetheless, the beast stood over them like a staunch guardian. He scanned his horizon and I knew he was looking for me. I caught a glint in his equine eyes, and again I was afraid I might have been found. If I had, he ignored me. Still he made me feel vulnerable and made me huddle tightly to my bit of hiding place near the willows as I tried to make myself small. I heard them whisper, but could not understand them. I could only feel them conspire against me. All the girls huddled closer next to their stallion. Their dark silhouettes moved hastily as they went about working on whatever scheme they were plotting. Again, I caught the glint of those massive beast's eyes whilst he shook his head and whipped his mane as he let out an excited braying neigh.
Before I could protest to any action that might be directed toward me, the girls all moved away to show me what they had done. The bright colors were more visible than they ought to be. Nonetheless, there they were, four bright and vivid pink ribbons neatly tied to the base of the beast's cock.
The creature, statue or whatever he was, took the time to grab his massive member and admire the new decorations. He shook his wet and flaccid phallus a few times; in the way it wobbled, I could tell it was heavy. Then to the girls giggling amusement, he went hard again. With his cock pointing out it almost resembled a baseball bat. He swung it around like one, swaying his hips to show off his new look. But then he stopped suddenly, and I swear he pointed it directly at me. The way he stood I could fully see his features; his back was against the brightness of the moon. Yet, there was that glint again in his eyes.
The fear sucked the breath from my lungs. I froze and dared not make a single movement. Every bit of my being reacted with paralysis, I don't think even my pores could make sweat. Only the branches of the willows swayed in that moment of eternity; its leaves singing to a soft sweat breeze I hadn't noticed until now. In my mind all I could scream was, "Oh no, he wants me to give him my ribbon now!"
Fortunately, the eternity passed, and the horny creature that was neither man nor beast grew bored and drew his attention elsewhere. Soon, he was back to playing his carnal game, picking Kalina again from among his herd. Up again she was lifted with her back against his chest. I'm certain now they must know I am near, because the way he penetrated her was an amazing display. He wasn't just trying to let her feel every inch slowly move up
inside of her. Though it must feel amazing, I knew she had done this many times before. No, this was for an observer like myself. They wanted me to see that inhuman and unearthly creature that I had admired, plunge himself impossibly into Kalina slowly and sensually. The Moonlight conspired with him to make the contact point glisten, showing me the fluids from her pussy push out to lubricate and make room for his impossibility. The silhouette of her abdomen swelled; almost as if I could see his cock travel through her.
Slowly he bucked, not like a horse or any other kind of beast, but like an artist. Graceful, methodical and mixed with a bit of style and pizzazz; he was showing off his skills. He wanted it to be slow, sensual scene because he had the whole night still at his disposal. He was trying to get me riled up and excited; flush me out of my hiding place and have me join them all. I was fascinated, I will not lie, and even a bit excited. However, I was also frightened. And so, for the whole evening I dared do nothing but watch. I prayed, I hoped, and I huddled in my hiding spot that when, or if he was ever done with her that they wouldn't come and search for me.
They never did, for the show never ended until the coming dawn. Kalina took up most of that time as the main attraction slowly undulating her body up and down his mighty horse-sized cock. The movements of her body and the thrusting of his hips became like an erotic dance. Every so often he would erupt inside of her. The amount of stamina that beast had to keep cumming as many times as he did, still fills me with awe to this day. The other three who hung low to sometimes lick his balls or the contact point of where his shaft entered Kalina, they waived their arms and whooped and hollered in more excitement than what I think Kalina was having. Never would I get to see their shadowed faces. Their identities would only ever be revealed to me from the many headstones that clamored up against the pedestal of that studdly statue. I knew they must hold the names of those girls because later I would discover Kalina's was among them. She was just another forgotten headstone clamoring to climb up onto her night steed of lust. Vines of hops reached out from her headstone to climb up the legs of the statue, reaching up to tinkle the equine beast's stony balls. As for the other names that littered the many other headstones, I probably will never know who they were. All I know is that night there was only three that I could see. I shudder to think that maybe they were all around me, watching the scene just as I was in the dark.
As for Kalina, she was a ghost. I went back to the house on the hill and found it an empty ruin. It looked to not have been lived in for fifty odd some years. Many of the windows were broken out and the roof was rotting away, I'm surprised my many canvases and paints were not ruined from being stored there.
Kalina never returned and the house never restored itself. I have never talked about it to anyone until now. Still, it has never kept me from leaving this small town. No, it has only added to the allure, and that has only made my art better I think. I still find myself traveling up the lane to that old house, wondering if I will see it restored again with Kalina waited at its door. I still go up behind it into the wonderful meadows to paint the majestic mountains with its pristine mountain lake. I make sure to add something a little special to the fantastic scenes I paint from them these days: A scantly clad warrior woman and her handsome midnight steed. Sometimes, when I feel I have the courage, I go and visit him. He still has all those vivid pink ribbons tied neatly to the base of his flaring cock. They remind me of that night. They remind me it wasn't a dream. I take out the one that Kalina had given me from my satchel, and I wonder with a smile if I really could go to her place anytime without her holding my hand. Her place isn't the house on the hill; it has always been here with him.
What Lies Buried Under
the Breeding Grounds
* * *
The world is full of mystery and the macabre. Maybe, it is only because humankind has been telling stories ever since their history began. The strangeness of these dark mysteries polarizes us. In one sense we want to flee from the terrors we create. As children, we cower under our blankets to the bogeymen we conjure for ourselves in the dark. Later we elaborate on those stories. We add layers of complexity to what perhaps started as a simple historical event, or as a superstitious belief. We love to hate being scared, and we love not knowing why.
Throughout the world are locations that inspire these stories. These urban myths are born from ridiculous stories spun into enormous tall-tales due to the desire to terrorize and delight listeners who are into the mystery of such things. Others are the product of historic events, and truth becomes both stranger and more terrible than fiction. Whatever the case, the best stories are about the locations few know about. These are the places tucked away in the most isolated and obscure corners. Perhaps, they are so isolated in such remote places that word of them does not spread far, or maybe their stories are so terrible that locals do not want word of them to spread.
From the village of Pluckley in England, or the Island of Dolls in Mexico, to the Dargavs of Russia, these examples are where stories of death and horror twist our curiosity and spoil our imaginations. As fascinating as they all are, it is a shame there are not more places that inspire wonderment without having to have such a terrible past. There are such places reserved in myths, from the lost continent of Atlantis to El Dorado the city of gold. Yet, could it be believed if there existed stories that told of places that held darkly erotic kinks? Nothing, it seems, is more taboo than the carnal, sensual delights of sex. All animals breed, even people. We do it with great passion and great pleasure. Yet, humankind more often than not keeps its happy acts more secret than its hidden stashes of gold, or its most violent crimes. This becomes particularly true when these misdeeds go beyond just the simple orgasmic touch between a man and woman's sexual anatomy; which for some even that is too taboo to discuss.
Not all creatures of night and fantasy want to be terrible monsters that humanity must dread. They have their own kinks and desires. They are not hindered by humanities morality, and so they lust and love freely, and with whomever they so choose. We have been caught up in their desires many times; we just do not like to admit it. For how else can it be explained that the dragons desired virgin sacrifices, or that unicorns would only appear before handsome virgin beauties?
Yes, there are places in the world that are dark and twisted. Places where strange and unusual things exist to haunt humankind. Yet, if one was to visit, or perhaps even more boldly, to stay in these places, they may find that they are not so bad after all. The monsters and supernatural happenings are not there to harm anyone like it is claimed by the fearful. They only want to play.
* * *
The 'Cemetery of Lost Souls' is what the locals call a walled graveyard in the town of Elmsdeep, in an area of Southwest England near New Forest. It is a small village, but one known for its collection of wealthy estates and large town houses once owned by bankers and other early twentieth century bourgeoisie.
The cemetery is named this because even if it has many graves and mausoleums, not a single body has been found inside its tombs. This can be verified: In the 1970's a small riot ransacked the supposed hallowed grounds. This was due to an outcry against a perceived lack of effort in the investigations to a rash of mysterious disappearances. The rioters dug up empty coffins in mass and piled them haphazardly next to the church that sits at the cemeteries east end. Their empty husks are still there to this day, and can be seen by any visitor who can sneak over the cemeteries high walls or through its chained gates.
Nobody has been allowed inside this historic place since the day when over seventy souls went missing in and around Elmsdeep. The residents still claim the place holds no responsibility, and that the legends and its ghost stories are only the inventions of thrill seeking and bored teenagers from neighboring towns. They even dismiss the now decades old newspapers with headlines outlining the riots. They will tell you that the empty coffins and disturbed burials are because of vandals and grave robbers. Whatever the story, none like visiting Elmsdeep
or its people, and they are generally not hospitable in return. As they keep the 'Cemetery of Lost Souls' forever chained, and discussions of its secrets forever closed.
Interestingly, the residents have not buried their dead here for over fifty years. The townspeople claims that the cemetery is at peak capacity, yet, the town continues to shrink ever so slowly with each new unsolved disappearance. Regardless, nobody will ever be able to prove the cemetery is at fault for the shrinking town. Even if evidence did come to light, which stories would those investigating become fixated on or claim is more at fault?
There is the story of the black cat that stalks along the walls and grounds, particularly at night. They say she is an omen of death, the grim reaper herself. If she crosses your path, you may just end up buried alive in an empty tomb. However, others say she is just a sentinel to this devils garden. Another legend speaks that the church had been an unholy place of satanic ritual. The devil himself appears here on certain nights of the year. On all other nights, eerie lights can be seen dancing from inside the church and the images upon its stained glass windows turn into demonically torturous scenes of the damned burning in hell. Other rumors have it that the gates of hell can be opened through the many passageways beneath the church. Some say that these tunnels riddle not only the graveyard, but that they stretch under the whole town as well. One story even goes so far as to say that some of those rioters, who helped exhume the coffins that are now piled outside their empty graves, fell into these tunnels. Others say they were dragged in.
As fascinating and frightening as these stories are, it is more intriguing that these dreadful versions are what people prefer to hear. The truth is stranger and much less accepted. Perhaps these dark and frightful versions are used to deter and scare away those who might discover the truth. Why any would want to do that is unknown. People do disappear, and yes, there are monsters, but they do not wish to damn nor harm anyone. They engage only in wild, kinky and exotic lust that no man or woman could find elsewhere in the world. The acts are so taboo that the people who find themselves engaged in them can never return to the world obsessed with its absurd righteousness.