Feature Writer: MissKitty1974 /
Feature Title: SHADOWS /
Story Codes: Erotic Horror /
Synopsis: A power outage proves there is more to power than light /
Author’s Notes: This is dedicated to my Master /



Part 1

Icy rain pattered rhythmically against Kitty’s bedroom window, the storm raging outside like an abandoned lover. She huddled deeper beneath the down comforter, counting on its thickness to fight off the cold. When the electricity had gone out earlier that night, she had had to rely on candles and the fire on her hearth for heat and light, and now that she was nested deeply into her bed, she felt lonely. It was too quiet in the old house, other than the rain, and the thunder. She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that she should sleep, but it was long in coming, elusive.

A floorboard creaked, and her eyes shot open, but her cat gave her an inscrutable look from the bedside as if to say “And your problem is??” Abashed, she nestled back down again.

Now, it seemed as though she heard a soft intake of breath, and she looked around, warily. But her cat gave her the same inscrutable look and stretched out at her feet with a jaw-popping yawn. “Silly,” she sighed, and closed her eyes again.

Finally, she felt the cat pounce off the bed and run like all the demons of hell were on its heels. She didn’t think much of it; as it was the sort of thing cats do on a moment’s notice, until a low chuckle, just barely audible beneath the patter of the rain, was heard nearby. She cracked an eye open, and tried to convince herself that there was not a pair of burning gray eyes in the darkness beside her bed. She stared at them, daring them to fade away the way the other phantoms had that night, but they did not. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounding wildly, all her childhood nightmares coming to life before her in the dark as she lay under her covers, not daring to move for fear this boogeyman should cut her to ribbons.

A stray flash of lightening illuminated the dim figure that stood beside her bed. It was definitely a man, though lithe of build and graceful of posture. He wore skintight denim jeans that showed off his dancer’s build, a black wife beater beneath a black leather jacket, and high, black leather Wellington boots. His hair was long, and fair, falling over his lean shoulders. His face was fine-boned, almost androgynous, one high arched eyebrow raised in amusement, his sensuous lips parted in a self-satisfied grin that showed his wickedly pointed teeth. His dark, gray eyes burned into her, and she could not decide if his beauty was more frightening than his seemingly magical talent for breaking onto her house unheard and unseen. In the candlelit darkness his voice was soft and low.

“Not so silly, my dear…”

A terrible shudder passed over her body; somewhere between horrific fear and undeniable lust. She got enough breath in her constricted lungs to squeak out, “Who are you?”

His grin widened, snarling sexily, “Oh, my dear, but that would be telling!”

“Wh-what do you want?”

The bedsprings creaked slightly as the stranger, with lust in his eyes, climbed onto the bed over her, pinning her with his lithe body, crouching over her like a hunting cat. The lust was tainted with a cruel edge, and she felt herself begin to tremble slightly. Why on earth didn’t she fight him off? He didn’t seem that he could possibly weigh any more than she did, and he looked almost too thin to provide much of a fight. Indeed, his weight on her body was not enough to prevent all movement, but something in his eyes suggested that it might not go well if she fought, and those fangs suggested just what.

There was a command in his expression, control, and she felt compelled to obey his softly purred command. There was no hate in his burning eyes.

Bemusement; yes. Sadism; yes. Control; indeed.

An almost tender caress to her cheek stilled her trembling, but she could not tear her eyes away from his. “What do I want?” he purred, “Whatever I ask of you. Are you naked beneath those sheets, my dear?”

She nodded, a chill skittering down her back again at the thought of being so exposed to this wild creature, but she remained beneath the comforter, white-knuckling the edge of the blanket. His grin was feral, now, and he plucked thoughtfully at the blanket’s edge, watching her fingers tighten. Suddenly, the bed seemed awfully warm, but she didn’t dare relinquish her hold on her covers. She felt like a mouse between the paws of a golden-haired cat, the fanged smile only strengthening the comparison. He stretched out, catlike indeed, beside her, continuing to fondle the blanket edge and watch her reaction.

“You know, if I were to request you remove those covers you would have to do it, my dear,” he said conversationally.

“Why?” she breathed, without thinking.

The movement was so fast she could barely track it as his eyes glowed red, his graceful hand caught up a handful of the concealing blanket and ripped it from her grasp, exposing her naked body to the cold darkness of the room. She instantly curled into a shivering ball, her hands thrown up over her head with a shriek of dismay. The elfin stranger cocked his head, studying her naked body for a moment, then in a surprising motion of affection, covered her back up into the warmth of her bed. She peeked out from under the blanket at her antagonist in disbelief.

“I am not all cruel,” he said softly in response to her incredulous expression. “But I will be obeyed, is that clear?”

“Y-y-yes, sir,” she answered quietly, enthralled.

The stranger lit another candle, and he was better illuminated. She could see now the beauty of his face, the grace of his movements, and felt a longing in her heart she could not explain. He fulfilled some fantasy in her mind, but she could not place it. Her eyes wide, she let her fingers relax their grip on the blankets, and watched him move. He seemed satisfied with her reaction, smiling indulgently now, and slowly pulled the covers from the top half of her body. He leaned close, planting a kiss on her lips that was soft, tender.

She breathed deep; his scent was of cinnamon, cloves, and leather. Lingering on his kiss, she raised a hand to caress his high cheekbone, the sharp curve of his jaw, his lean, muscular shoulder… His hand came up swiftly, catching her hand and pinning it to the mattress by her head. She gasped, and he grabbed her other hand, though not by the wrist but by entwining his fingers with hers and leaning down on it. Breaking the kiss, he caught her eyes again with his, seeming to be searching for something there. Then, he cocked his head, his hair brushing her face slightly, and bent down to place his teeth on the curve of her neck, pinning her arms. She stilled, not daring to breathe, then he sank his fangs into her throat and her back arched.

Her cry echoed through the empty house. Again, his lips were gentle, and he kissed her neck where he had bitten it, working his way down her collarbones toward her exposed breasts. A soft sound like that of a kitten came from her throat as his teeth grazed her flesh again. She anticipated pain, but was relieved by his softness. His wicked gray gaze met her eyes again, and he bit down again, her cry less frightened and more passionate now, her hands straining to free themselves from his pinning grasp. His breath warm on her neck, he nuzzled against her, and when he let her hands free and his bite came to her again, her hands grasped him closer. She craned her neck to offer it to him, and he chuckled softly, “Good, little one, mustn’t deny the Master. You like it when I bite you?”

She sighed deep, but would not lie to him, knowing well he would know if she did, “Yes… I do. I don’t know why…”

He silenced her with a long finger, bending to replace it with his lips again. “Don’t question. Just do as I say…”


He sat back on his knees and pulled the leather jacket and shirt off, revealing his smooth chest and long, lightly muscled arms. She watched the subtle play of sinew beneath his pale flesh hungrily, and found herself licking her lips in anticipation. He seemed pleased by this, grinning like a cat. “Do I please you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good,” he purred, bending to her flesh again. She submitted to his teeth, gasping deeply with every bite, yet pulling him closer, feeling his flesh warm against her skin. She marveled at the softness of it as he pressed his lean body against her. Now, she planted kisses along his jaw, down his neck, across his chest; in supplication, pleading for mercy.

His head dipped down suddenly for another bite, and she tightened in anticipation, but his teeth snapped an inch away from her skin, and she fairly laughed in relief.

He snickered nastily. “Ahh, love! It’s not so bad as all that, eh? Listen, now, little one; I want you… I will have you.”

It was a simple enough command, but held a world of meaning. Was it her body he wanted? Was she to be ravished as a lover? Or was it her blood he craved? To die in his arms as her essence was drained by his wicked teeth and sensuous lips? Or was it something more? Was it her soul he wished to steal from her like a thief in the night? Her heart? Her mind? Could she relinquish it as easily as he said? He was the Master, she could not deny his claim to that; whether by fear or by fascination he held her in thrall, and she knew she would obey him…

Part 2: Claiming

The storm continued into the night, the only light being that of the two candles on the bed stand, the only warmth being that of her strange elfin lover beneath the down comforter. The darkness outside the small, golden light of the candleflames was complete, no streetlight or moonlight to ease the shadows. She barely noticed, her eyes for him alone, and the surrounding darkness only serving to highlight his pale beauty, and cut all distraction from their intimacy.

Her body trembled beneath his, her fear and desire battling with her will as his hands awakened her to new meanings of pain and rapture.

He sank his teeth into her neck mercilessly, holding her down as she bucked beneath him. Even in the throes of torment, she clutched his lithe form to hers, crying out.

Once, she whispered, “Mercy!!” as the pain from his bite brought tears to her eyes. He turned his amused glance to her face, stopping both the pain and the caress of his clever hands on her body.

“What was that you said?” he growled.

She panted, getting her breath back, and found herself amazingly disappointed at the cessation of his attentions. Her neck ached from the many bites he had inflicted on her, and from the loss of his touch. Blushing, she looked into his eyes and replied softly, “Mercy? Umm… French for ‘thank you’, Master…”

“Indeed,” he smirked, and sank his teeth into her neck harder and deeper than he had ever before. She howled in agony, writhing now to escape, her hands fluttering helplessly against his shoulders. When he lifted his head to glower at her, she was not surprised to see her own blood drip from his long teeth, his eyes matching in color. His voice was still soft and low, but now menacing. “You will learn not to defy me, little one.”

She whimpered softly in her throat, fear leaping into her eyes, and clutched him against her, kissing his jaw and neck like a wolf pup begging forgiveness. His eyes cooled to the warm dark gray they had been, and his fingers stroked through her hair, gripping a double handful at the back of her head and holding her still.

“You are mine, do you understand?” he growled, “Mercy will only come when I am done with you…”

She struggled to speak, to answer him, to beg for compassion, to feel his lips and hands gentle on her body again, tears streaming down her cheeks. He waited a heartbeat, two, watching her will break, and when he kissed her lips again she lifted her face willingly to him, relieved.

Part 3: The Master

The Master’s hands traveled to her thighs, and he could feel her heat, her need, even before her hips rose to meet his touch. His chuckle was cool to her shredded nerves, and his breath warm in the night as he spoke against her neck. “You want me, don’t you, little wench? You want me inside you, don’t you? I can feel you panting like a cat in heat, arching up against my hand like that. You want to feel me inside you?” He ground his hips into hers, and she felt his hardness against her stomach, surprised at its size for one so lithe. “You want to feel this,” he slid his erection along her aching nether lips, “… inside you?”

She panted desperately, writhing against him, able only to nod, and beg with her eyes for release. His erection teased her clit and inner lips maddeningly, just barely touching them, as he played his lean hips over her, pinning her arms again to keep her from pulling him down on her. “And what,” he whispered into her ear, ever-so-softly, “makes you think you deserve this? Hmmm?”

“Oh Gods,” she breathed, “Please. Oh please. Yes…”

“Say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you. Oh please. I want you inside me!”

“Call me Master, little bitch…”

She was panting so hard, and was so distracted she could barely grasp English well enough to answer, but she didn’t dare disobey his order. “M… Ma… Massss…. Ahhh… Master! Please… Master!”

He entered her body swiftly, filling her, slamming against her cervix so hard she screamed. Then, tucking his legs up beneath her thighs, he moved within her slowly, pulling out almost entirely, only to slowly drive back in all the way. She groaned with pleasure, and looked up, captured by his eyes again.

He held her gaze relentlessly as he moved, never looking away or closing them, a small crease in his brow making his expression seem tender, almost wondering, instead of the sadistic grin she was expecting. She poured all of her emotion into her eyes, letting him see what he was doing to her, to her body, to her spirit, and he seemed to read it there, even as she moaned softly beneath him.

She shuddered as he bent down toward her, but his kiss was gentle, lingering, passionate. She could feel his deadly teeth behind his soft lips, could taste her own blood on them, but she took the moment to return his kiss with genuine affection.

His eyes never left hers, as though he was drinking in her emotion, her passion, her pain and her pleasure, and she gave them up to him. They made love like this for what seemed like hours. With no electricity there was no way to tell the passage of time, save by how far down the candles melted. Their eyes never strayed to watch them. By the time the candles actually burned down the storm had cleared, and the moon shone through the window over them. It seemed to cast a more elfin light on the lover; the candles made him look feral, the moon seemed to offer a more faerie cast to his features.

Her climax was a slowly building, growing warmth in her gut that suddenly ripped through her body like a wave. Her head was thrown back, her fingers clenching his spasmodically, and she breathed her rapture almost soundlessly into the quieting night, bucking beneath him. He held her as she calmed.

When she had collapsed onto the bed, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes, he smiled enigmatically. “Indeed, precious, you looked like you needed that… Now I ask of you; Please give me release. Those lips of yours are certainly good for more than a kiss…”

She smiled serenely as he lay down beside her, and curled up into his lap to wrap her lips around his still hard phallus. She worked him steadily, his hand on her shoulder, stroking in time with her movements, urging her on, guiding her speed.

He was nearly silent, the only indication of his release his soft cry and the taste of him in her mouth. She cocked her head to rest it on his thigh, swallowing with a grin. His hand reached down and grabbed her hair, pulling her up to kiss his lips. His nails traced along her shoulder, welting her skin, and he looked interested at the result… “Hmmm,” he purred, “Don’t you welt up nicely? Next time I may have to tie you down…”

Suddenly, with a hum, the electricity came back on, the lights brightening the room almost unbearably, and she threw up her arm over her eyes to shield them, sitting up. When she got her sight back and looked around her, the elfin stranger was gone. She could still smell him on her, feel the welts and bruises where he had bitten her, the lingering warmth of his skin on hers… and an aching in her breast she simply could not explain. She lifted her fingers to her lips, savoring the feel of him there.

Finally, she got up and turned off all the lights, stopping to gaze dispassionately at the candle stubs on her bed stand. The second candle had been black, and she carried no black candles. The darkness, now dimly lit by distant streetlights seemed all the more empty for her being alone; the house colder even with the heaters on…


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