The #SoSS posts ensure that I am constantly discovering new bloggers out there who write great stuff.
I followed a little lady Pixie Heart (I know she’s a “little” because of she explained in her her blog -which consisted of diary pieces about her life as a submissive with the Boss man and other females who form her group. Pixie ran a competition with the prompt ‘Something Wicked This way Comes‘ which should have been judged around Halloween, but events (twin girls!) overtook her so she was forced to extend the deadline. Lucky me, because by the extended date I was on Twitter and saw the call to arms.
So … I got a spooky idea while driving (as I so often do on long journeys) and wrote it up, then had to trim it down to the word limit – I did not win, but was runner up. See what you think.
As Cold as Ice
I reached inside the broken window. The boards nailed there to keep people out were broken in parts.
“Here kitty,” I called, “puss, where are you?” I tried to keep my voice steady and encouraging, despite the fact that this deserted, broken-down house gave me the creeps, chilling me to the bone. Where was the black cat I’d seen weave through the gappy fence panels and climb in this window? I listened for any sound, and heard a distant meowing.
Determined to rescue the little cat, I pulled away a loose board and struggled to get my head and shoulders through the gap. The rough edges dragged at my hair and clothes, but did no damage until I pulled my legs through. That’s when I felt my fishnet tights catch and rip, great holes appearing in the network of threads. Ho-hum, saving the cat was more important, the look still worked, with my biker boots and black leather mini-skirt.
Inside, the house was dusty and bare of furniture, cobwebs coated everything and a dank chill pervaded the air, soaking to my core. Goosebumps broke out on my skin while dread washed over me. There was something desolate and menacing in the atmosphere. I should find that cat and get out of there fast, so where was the meowing coming from?
Faint noises sounded above me, so I ventured into the hallway, to find paw-prints on the dusty stairs. Although I hugged my jacket around me, it was no match for the cold and my nipples hardened painfully against my flannel shirt.
“Here kitty.” I tried to sound reassuring as I climbed the creaking staircase. All doors on the landing were closed except one, which I pushed wider, entering a once-grand bedroom. The windows had heavy curtains, and the bed had wooden pillars also draped with fabric, but everything was faded and decomposing, the old splendour draped in cobwebs. I peered around, trying to locate the cat, calling all the time. It must be under furniture, so I bent down to lift the fabric skirt around the bed.
“Who’ve you brought me, kitty?” The voice in the chill air was eerie and hoarse, making my heart stutter with surprise.
Before I could straighten up to face its owner, they held me in their cold, steely grip. My shoulders were pressed down so I was unable to adjust my posture, my bum stuck in the air while my face was pressed into the musty bed hangings. I was assaulted by a mixture of fear, shock, dread, and embarrassment. I was exposed, my short skirt had hitched as I bent forward, and I hated being held down.
When I sensed a soft tickling, the touch of fur on my calves and heard a purr, I realised the cat must be weaving round my legs. Next, something cold trailed up the back of my thigh, slipping under my skirt, while icy fingers groped my buttocks before grabbing a handful of my fishnets. They ripped them, enlarging the snagged holes before insinuating those chilly digits under my boy shorts.
Although I was shocked and appalled, those sneaking fingers stroking and teasing my pussy, to my chagrin, began to get me wet. I love temperature play, frequently preparing my glass dildo in with ice cubes, and those chilly fingers probing at my snatch induced delicious sensations as they trailed through my dew covered folds, spreading moisture.
“I think our visitor likes this, kitty.” The rasping voice of my assailant was creepy, but compelling. I was forced to suck in musty air where my face was pressed into the bedding, while my pussy was teased; one, then two fingers slid insistently in and out, and my heartbeat kicked up.
“Who are you?” I gasped.
“You couldn’t understand.”
“What are you going to do to me?” my voice was muffled.
“Nothing you haven’t dreamed of,” came the reply.
I began to make my own mewing sounds, the digits swirling around my clit and labia drove me crazy with arousal. I should have been terrified, with no clue who my assailant was or what their intentions were, yet I was so turned on I never wanted the sensations to end. A third finger, or something to add girth, joined to those thrusting at my sopping hole like a cold piston - I was loving it.
Could the creature really know my thoughts? My fantasies often featured reluctance; I dreamed of being treated like a slut, handled roughly, to believe my allure made my partner lose self-control. When my assailant had held me down and shredded my tights, I’d felt a gush of hot excitement pulse in my cunt.
The mysterious being dragged my torso up onto the bed and switched to massaging my pussy. I was still bent forward at the waist, but now my upper body was supported by the mattress. Wedging a foot between my boots, they spread my legs wider. Next I felt a cool appendage snaking under my ribs, grasping my shirt it pulled hard until buttons popped and fabric ripped. With my breasts exposed to the cold, gloomy room, that same cold appendage began pinching and dragging at my left nipple. Their touch was rough and insistent, the stuff of my fantasies.
To my shame, a moan escaped my lips, and I panted. The creature laughed, they were seemingly amused by my arousal. The torment of my breast, which had been sending stabs of desire to the pit of my stomach ceased. They grasped my head instead, twisting it to the side to press their cold lips against mine. Whatever was pumping at my soaking sex never slowed, while what felt like a tongue probed my mouth. This too was cold, like its fingers, but thick and substantial. My response was to suck on it like I was sucking a cock, because the girth increased until that’s what it felt like. My saliva flowed, and I worked my lips and tongue in a massaging movement. The ‘tongue’ touched the back of my throat; I hoped I was giving it pleasure.
I was crazed with lust, visualising my assailant as not in any way human, but rather a sex machine programmed to fuck me every which way. I continued to groan to express my arousal, causing the sex machine to speed up thrusting their cool protuberances into my pussy, while another part of them continued to fuck my mouth. I sensed my hot juices slicking my thighs, in contrast with both appendages, which felt cool as they pleasured me, a shocking contrast which I relished.
Soon everything inside me was tightening up; colours swirled behind my eyes while waves of throbbing delight spread out from my core. As if falling from a height, I swooped down into a kaleidoscope of colours, my body clutching and grabbing in pulses while every happy sensation washed over me. Sex machine continued to focus attention on my pussy but something cold spurted at the back of my throat; their inhuman climax. I splintered apart with my orgasm, then my fragments joined back together with a sensation of completion.
The ‘tongue’ was withdrawn from my mouth, enabling me to gulp deep, ragged breaths. Moments later, my skirt was hiked up exposing my rump. Again the chilled, clawing ‘hand’ ripped my fishnets, but tore away my knickers so a hard appendage could press against my anus. Before I could register either excitement or dread, I was pierced from behind. With a burning stretch, I was able to accommodate it, the dimensions being similar to my favourite plug, but cold as steel. My anal ring flared as my body accepted the invasion. The creature fucked me doggy style, while I grunted and gasp in wordless pleasure.
Despite feeling fully possessed, I yearned for more stimulation. Again the creature could ‘read’ me and they reached round to pressure and tease my clit until I felt feverish and twitchy. Seeing starbursts, I howled and came, yet I begged the being not to stop. In response, they began a rhythm of withdrawing slowly before pressing back in which prolonged the throbs of my second climax. Maybe I even had a third before I blacked out.
When I awoke, I was stiff and sore. I was sprawled on the mildew spotted bedding, my trembling legs felt like cooked spaghetti. My jaw ached and my rear felt stretched and bruised. Looking down, my clothes were very dishevelled; buttons missing from my flannel shirt and my fishnets were in tatters. I puzzled what had brought me to this freezing room in a house earmarked for demolition. Then I saw the cat.
Perched calmly on a chair, the black cat stretched one leg in the air, licking languorously at its fur. It paused mid-wash, and fixed me with its green eyes. When it stood and stretched, leaping to pad noiselessly across the floorboards, it looked back at me in the doorway. I had a hazy memory of coming into this house to rescue that cat. I couldn’t bear such a beautiful creature to get trapped in this dangerous building, so I followed it. It had snuck through a gap in a boarded window, and I had a vague memory of following it and tearing my tights. Could I have fallen from the high windowsill and bumped my head? But that hardly explained why I woke on this bed.
Outside, in the daylight, the cat stalked a short way down the road, then sat to resume washing itself. I walked off unsteadily, in the direction of home.