Wendy, never believing the stories she heard often about aliens existing, until the first time she felt four hands and two mouths on her body, giving her pleasure. Every night around midnight Wendy stood naked by her front door waiting for them to take her away. She didn’t care what planet they took her to as long as they were together. In her nighttime fantasies, Wendy often felt the two alien men giving her pleasure. The one called Theo insisted she had to be naked at all times, submit to his every command. For several months, the two aliens arrived around midnight, giving her orgasm after orgasm. Soon Wendy became obsessed she needed them to survive.
She opened the wooden door half way and gazed up into the darkened sky. In less than five minutes they would arrive. She would finally get to see the faces of the men who gave her pleasure. Tonight she didn’t have to wear the blindfold they made her wear. She dreamed Theo had long blond hair and the one who called himself Hunter had black hair down to his waist. His goatee touching her pussy and thighs sent her into overdrive alone.
Wendy could recall the first time they fucked her. She felt passion rising in her like the hottest fire, clouding her brain. She surrendered completely to their masterful seduction. The dormant sexuality of her body had been awakened. Desire for them, overrode everything else. It was time to go home.
A Guardian’s Sword by Melissa Keir
The smell of smoke filled the forest. Freya sprang alert, hardly sleeping since the conditions unstablized. Her eyes widened as she sniffed the air. Laying her hands on Mika, her guardian tree, she whispered. “Smoke in the west. Fire’s coming this way. I need to keep you safe.” There was a catch of emotion in her voice.
Calling forth the rain, Freya tried to impede fire’s determined path. Mika was Freya’s life. Her earliest memories were of looking up at the green, open arms of her guardian. Fire was her biggest fear. He’d been taunting her for ages. The dry, hot summer annihilated countless guardians. Always vigilant, Freya wasn’t going to let Fire win.
But the rain wouldn’t come. Freya was too weak. Throwing her exhausted body around Mika’s trunk, Freya made a last ditch effort to save her companion, her soul.
Freya felt the heat of the flames on her back as Fire put his lips on her. “I won’t leave you,” she cried with anguish. The flames licked her back causing a scream to explode from her lips.
“Once he’s toast, you’ll be mine.” Fire’s gleeful tease whispered in her ear.
Frightened, Freya didn’t notice Mika’s change. Before her stood a tall, dark man. Freya’s eye’s widened.
“You’ll never have my love.” A deep voice reverberated through the forest. Mika’s arm pulled Freya behind him as his other arm vanquished fire with his guardian’s sword. “Scissors may beat rock, but a guardian’s sword always beats fire. I win.”
The Heat, by Michel Prince
Carista knew the danger, but the pull was too much. The Prince’s scent lingered in the halls where he’d walked. She followed the trail almost as if she were an animal, then again being in heat seems the most appropriate way to describe the way her body clicked when she first met him.
She’d been regal and followed all the protocols required of her station, yet when the Earthling touched her hand...a growl escaped from the memory. Carista licked her lips as she curled around the corner in search of the man only to run directly into his chest.
“I thought I had a shadow, too bad I don’t have a needle to attach you properly.”
“A needle?” Carista trembled against his warm body.
“It’s from a children’s story, a boy loses his shadow so it needs to be sewn back on.”
“That does not make sense, one cannot sew a shadow.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to find another way to attach you to me,” his growl reminded her of her own and his eyes told more than his lips. “Is that not why you followed me? You know Venus was the goddess of love, I should have known better than to come here with an open heart.”
He’s from a land on Earth where her ancestors had once lived. Right now she couldn’t focus on geography, she could only concentrate on his cornflower blue eyes and the warmth of his thumb as it glided along her lip.
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The Virgin Comes of Age by Lindsay Downs w/a Lisa Drummond
The heady intoxicating coppery fragrance of fresh blood mixed with the cold rough wooden board against her nakedness brought Tatiana awake. Another sniff told her the owner, an all too familiar scent.
Curling her fingers against the plank she tried to raise herself but couldn’t. This was something her Mistress had told her would happen, mental alertness intermingled with physical exhaustion after the first kill.
“Will this last long? The lethargy after the blood-lust is satisfied, I mean?” Tatiana asked, right before the last bit of body art, signifying her a member of the Wolverine Clan, was tattooed around her eye.
“My precious one it won’t. You’ll grow stronger with each. It’s always the first which is the hardest. This is more so when you eliminate a one who has wronged you.” She remembered Mistress had told her in her ever present soft soothing voice.
No sooner had the words sunk in than Tatiana knew who would be the first to feel her two inch long fangs. The person who’d said one thing and did another. If she hadn’t caught them screwing, on her couch no less, she would have believed he did truly love her.
As she became more mentally aware of the events of the night she allowed a smile to grace her lips. Which had more fun, the stalk or the kill? Each was, in and of itself was heady, a thrill.
“My darling, how are you feeling?” Mistress asked brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Mischief, by Winfield Strock
She clung to the shadows, watching, waiting. The big lummox snored loud enough to cover her fumbling entrance. He bore telltale signs, gluttony, sloth; easy prey. She tip toed into the cluttered bedroom, careful of the debris surrounding the man’s bed like a minefield.
She yearned for the sensations possessing this fleshy heap offered. Leaner, prettier vessels fought too much or worse, already hosted an enemy spirit. Books and legends depicted demonic possession as the work of the devil’s pawns warring over the world’s witless souls against the powers of light.
A giggle slipped as she considered her selfish part in an un-sinister plot. A joyride, that’s all she hoped to accomplish tonight; a chance to eat foods, smell odors, and maybe get lucky too.
She picked her way closer. Though no mere corporeal creature, she’d known others to knock things about simply through their sharpness of focus. The anticipated thrill of taking this slovenly creature for a stroll threatened to alert her man and kill the night’s fun.
She slithered across his chest, paralyzing his limbs as she crawled. His breathing stuttered and stopped just as she climbed inside. Fear and flight crossed his dim wits before she wrestled his will into submission.
Hot dank air, thick with body odor assailed her senses and she laughed herself to tears. Pressed for time she raced through the room to get dressed. She caught her reflection in the mirror and flashed a dingy smile. “Hello handsome, let’s go find some fun.”
The Artistry of Magic, by Ben Coleman
"Magecraft is not always easy Dantika. But nor should it always be hard." Said Francisco. He took a breath and held it a moment as if considering his approach. He took her hand in his and lay it against the rough unpolished wood. "It is like anything else you do, it must be done with passion. Let the work be fluid, natural. Learn with each movement.”
“But you are master, you have learned all..” She began but was interrupted by his chuckle which revealed his patience.
“No child, I am still as much an apprentice as you. Here, now. Reach out with your senses. Feel the life within the wood. You don't have to close your eyes, just feel, with your spirit.”
She did as he bid and reached out. She felt nothing at first but then there was something, a stirring, perhaps.”
“Yes.” Said Francisco watching her closely.
“You feel it now don't you.”
Dantika nodded but said nothing.
“Now go with the grain. Do not command it, you are not telling it what to do, you are only influencing it. Don't go against the grain, no. Always go with it.”
Dantika concentrated and began running her fingertips across the wood carefully going with the grain. And for the first time she felt it, truly felt it. There was heat, and a smoldering black trace followed her fingers movements. She was doing it! She was actually creating art with magic!