Viola Grace - Saguinary Seduction, page 1
Sanguinary Seductions
An Anthology by
eXtasyùs Collective Mind
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Sanguinary Seductions
Copyright 2008 eXtasy’s Collective Mind ISBN: 978-1-55487-136-0
Cover art by Martine Jardin
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Published by eXtasy Books
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Content
1 - Before Morning - A.J. Llewellyn
2 - Betrayed by a Kiss - Astrid Cooper 3 - Blood of the Alizarene - Evelyn Starr 4 - Der Wolf - K.B. Forest
5 - Devil Woman - AP Miller
6 - Dexter - Marc Jarrod
7 - Draining Jayne - Viola Grace
8 - Erotic Ramblings of a Vampire - D.J. Manly 9 - Erotic Ramblings of a Werewolf - D.J. Manly 10 - Hunted - Laura Tolomei
11 - I’m a Vampire…in the Line of Garlic - Jackie Rose 12 - Initiation - Jade Marqueen
13 - Midnight at Morning’s - A.J. Llewellyn 14 - The Reluctant Incubus - Stephani Hecht 15 - Revenant - German Bradley
16 - Samantha’s Seduction - Tianna Xander 17 - Sandi’s Crimson Knights - Bonnie Rose Leigh 18 - Sins of an Angel - Stephani Hecht 19 - A Stone’s Throw: Addi - C.R. Moss 20 - A Tale of Opposites - Lynn Crain 21 - Through the Red Door Starkly - KA M’Lady 22 - The Vamp - Kira Chase
To our faithful readers…
Before Morning
A.J. Llewellyn
December 13, 1707, Mount Fuji, Japan.
n the shadow of the great volcano, Askemua heard the stories Iof Kano, the fabled samurai, the fearless leader who abandoned the code of bushido, the way of the warrior, walking into the mountains one day, never to be seen again.
For Askemua, the story was no myth. He’d known Kano, whose name meant masculine power, when the magnificent samurai ruled their village in the heart of the five lakes district at the foot of Mount Fuji.
As others feared the predicted eruption from the impatient volcanic cone, Askemua’s attention was on Kano’s physical beauty and power. Struggling with his growing attraction for the samurai, second leader only to the mighty Shogun, Askemua feared the gods punished his unnatural desires by leaving him orphaned after famine.
However, Kano was gentle and kind, giving him a small cottage and a small plot of land. “Make of it what you will, little man.”
And he had. Askemua had been there the day the samurai was discovered in a compromising position with Yori, one of his own farm workers.
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The peasants all claimed it was a sign of a coming eruption.
Askemua eyed the twelve-thousand-foot ice-capped peak framed by ice-blue skies and thought them wrong. He tried to visualize roiling, red lava frothing from its dome, imagining it to be a thing of beauty as well as destruction. Whether the dire predictions were correct or not, Kano took the honorable path.
He left with the clothes on his back, walking toward Aokigahara Jukai, the Sea of Trees.
They said this forest was haunted. They said it housed monstrous creatures both living and dead. Whether it was the treacherous switchback trails or these alleged demons that killed people, Kano was the talk of the village every day.
At night, Askemua dreamed of him as if in trance. He dreamed of their fierce and impassioned lovemaking, yet he had no experience of sex. He felt the samurai’s gingery breath on his skin, heard his sighs in dreams awash with colors of fire and unearthly brightness. He would awaken, drenched with sweat, his cock rigid and go about his daily chores feeling unsettled by his nighttime desires.
There were women for the taking, but his wandering gaze was never on them, it was always men. On the night of Askemua’s nineteenth birthday, there was a commotion when Kano returned, hoping to take his lover into exile with him. Not only did he discover that Yori had taken another, but it was a woman he planned to marry.
His black hair long now, Kano seemed to have a superior strength, a quickness that left the villagers breathless as they watched the two former lovers fight like enemies in a taro patch in the dead of night. Kano could easily have killed Yori, despite being unarmed. Yori came at him with fire-lit branches and even a sword, yet Kano prevailed. Beside his crumpled opponent, he stamped out the fire, handing the sword to Yori’s wife and, with a glance at Askemua once again, Kano left.
And never came back.
For five years now, stories of the samurai’s feats were like fairytales in a harsh environment where everybody worked and nobody had money.
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There was no meat for anybody except the Shogun and severe weather often killed crops so the people fed their minds on dreams. Kano’s was an astonishing tale for he was the only known survivor to the forest they called the house of death because few who entered the Sea of Trees returned. Most took their own lives, driven insane by the disorienting power of the stones. Those who lived, told wondrous tales of volcanic rocks so huge and so potent, it confused them.
“I saw Kano,” one man panted, returning to the village barefoot and shaky. Weary of debts and taxes, the farmer had hoped to find a better life and almost found death instead. He encountered dead bodies, other journeymen who’d taken their own lives, driven insane by the black forest. He said that Kano found him and saved him. “He offered me fruit and showed me the way home.”
There were conflicting stories. Some said he saved their lives, some said he tried to kill them.
“He’s crazy,” another man claimed. “He lives in a cave and he came out like a wild cat, attacking me.”
But all those who survived the strange, hypnotic danger of the Sea of Trees acknowledged one thing. Kano controlled the forest, thriving on its mysterious life force.
For Askemua, the seduction of the legendary warrior, to experience life outside his village above Edo, became an obsession. He sought sexual experience from Yori, the man Kano had once loved. Rebuffed at first, Askemua soon found that the farmer, one of the few elite to own land parceled out by the samurai before his departure, married his woman for appearance’s sake, but still craved men.
One inexplicably warm morning, as he performed his chores, Askemua sensed a presence and turned to find Yori watching him.
“Meet me at midnight at the shrine of the inari kitsune, the spirit fox.” The older man disappeared through a grove of bamboo trees, leaving Askemua tingling with anticipation. He sipped his hot green tea, a small reward for his morning’s toil, allowing his mind to drift.
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It wasn’t that he was attracted to Yori. He wanted to be with a man who knew what he was doing. At midnight, he removed his wooden Geta shoes for fear of making too much noise, making his way up the north western slope, away from the village, to the shrine hidden in a bamboo hut.
The path felt smooth and warm under his bare toes. The night was still humid and as he progressed up the mountain, wildly lush and wet. The green of the trees seemed almost blood red in the dark night, the scent of mountain peaches tangy on the breeze.
Yori was waiting for him.
At age thirty-three, he was ten years older than Askemua, but looked much older. His life of deprivation, both physical and spiritual, had depleted Yori of his essence.
Askemua wanted to ask, Do you miss him? What was he like?
Do you still love him? But Yori’s need was urgent as he studied the younger, equally hungry man standing before him.
“Am I your first?” Yori was licking his lips.
Askemua nodded, suddenly terrified.
“I won’t hurt you,” the dark eyes that held his echoed the promise of the rushed words. Yori drew him closer, inhaling his youthful scent, fumbling with the buttons of his cotton hakama pants. Askemua felt the warm breath on his exposed cock.
Nobody had touched his private parts since he was a baby and his legs trembled as he felt rough hands fondling him, examining him. He was afraid to look down, yet deeply curious.
Yori was studying his uncut cock, a small, secretive smile, then a kiss on the tip, sending ripples of happiness through Askemua’s body. Yori stroked the virgin manhood to life, taking pride in its increasing hardness.
“I can’t wait anymore,” he moaned, plunging it into his salivating mouth. Askemua sank to his knees as back and forth, over and over his hardening cock, Yori’s searching mouth gave and took much joy. Then he stopped. His eyes were heavy lidded as his tongue and two fingers peeled back the foreskin to reveal the glistening head.
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This new sensation of lips closing over his most private place as Yori pushed and pulled on him produced a euphoric feeling as Askemua’s cock plundered Yori’s experienced throat.
With a dizzying cry, he came in the older man’s mouth. He felt the way the tongue swirled over the head of his eruption, the mouth teasing every last drop of life-force from him.
Askemua’s entire body relaxed.
“Very nice.” Yori let go of him now. “You liked it?”
“Oh, yes.” Askemua wanted to reciprocate. “Please let me suck you, Yori.”
“Not tonight. Meet me here again tomorrow and we will explore one another…at leisure. Now I must leave.” For the first time, he gave the younger man a kiss and Askemua could taste his own come on Yori’s tongue. He was surprised how sweet his juices were.
“That’s because we are not eating meat,” Yori told him.
“Meat turns the seed bitter.” He left Askemua alone with his thoughts, his racing pulse and his heightened awareness that he was one step closer to leaving the village in search of the man he was convinced he loved.
He’d never tasted come before, anyone’s come, and now his body burned even more brightly for Kano. The thought that he would be with Yori tonight made it easier for him to get through the day. Again, he made his way up the mountain, but this time he arrived with an unyielding cock that made Yori laugh when his fingers reached for it.
“Eh, you missed me, boy?” Yori suckled him to a fast and frantic orgasm, and this time, Askemua slid to the floor, Yori scrambling over him, his own cock begging for release. It was long and surprisingly thick. He’d seen his father’s a couple of times, caught one brother naked and, in his mind, imagined Kano to possess such a weapon between his thighs so he was pleased to find a large cock to practice on right here in the hut.
Yori showed Askemua how to pleasure him, how to bring bliss to a man, to avoid teeth grazing the fragile skin and all the while, as his mouth and tongue brought new delights to the tired farmer, he dreamed he was with Kano…always Kano, who 5
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was waiting for him in his cave in the Sea of Trees. Yori was an impatient lover, eager to come and then go home. There were no shared moments of elation beyond his physical release.
Askemua loved the taste of come and Yori chuckled as the younger man’s mouth lingered over his spent cock, trying to revive it.
“Tomorrow.” He rose from the floor where they rolled in their indelicate embrace, promising more satisfaction tomorrow.
For several nights, the new lovers met, bringing each other to increasingly intense fulfillment in their secret hideaway. Yori was ecstatic with the arrangement, Askemua frustrated. He longed for nakedness, for a slow exploration of the man he was beginning to treasure.
“I have never allowed anyone to touch me in another way since Kano left.” Yori wept when he said this very late one night after his languor left him at the mercy of the younger man who pried secrets from him like root vegetables out of the stubborn earth.
“Do you miss him?” Askemua finally asked the question that kept eluding him, stabbing at him, night after night.
“I hardly remember him. He left my dreams long ago.”
Askemua thought he could never forget a man like Kano.
Then the young man he’d taught so much, wanted to bring him more pleasure still and Yori relented, giving into the tearful entreaties for closer contact, for the touch of skin against skin.
He allowed Askemua to remove his hakama, parting his cotton-mix kimono to reveal the lean and muscular body underneath it. Askemua stared at the balls and ass beneath the twitching tool in his hands.
“These are like kintama, the golden balls of heaven,”
Askemua’s unexpected words surprised both of them. “Please let me kiss them.” His dark head buried itself with assured swiftness between Yori’s relenting thighs.
His face streaked with tears as Askemua’s probing tongue flicked at his ass, tentative at first, then becoming braver, moving up and over Yori’s balls and plunging back to the head 6
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of his leaking cock, then zeroing in on his tremulous ass again.
“Oh, no…no,” he rasped, clutching at Askemua’s head, desperate to keep him there. His ass rose and fell on the hard-packed earth as the younger man kept up his assault.
“Hamete chodai! Fuck me!” Yori urged, his head tossing back and forth, his strong, muscular thighs spreading like an eager whore for him. Askemua couldn’t think straight. This was new territory for him, but he badly wanted to fuck and Yori grabbed his cock, placing it right at his ass hole. “Fuck me!”
The virgin took the mighty warrior’s former lover, who flailed beneath his hard body. Askemua took what he wanted, giving equal delirium in the act he imagined, but never dreamed could be as good as it actually was. The orgasm he experienced fucking his lover was ten thousand times more intoxicating than just being sucked.
“Fukaku hamekonde chodai! Fuck me hard!” Yori shrieked.
Oh my God. As he pounded into the man begging for his prick, Askemua felt an astonishing fire lighting within him and he came at the same second he felt Yori exploding all over his chest and belly moaning, “Iku! Iku! I’m coming! I’m coming!”
Askemua felt his chokyo, his sexual training was complete.
Yori laughed when it was all over. “You fuck me like a man who is on a mission to own me, to dominate me.” The look he gave Askemua was almost hopeful and the younger man knew it would be easy to stay, easier not to leave, but he had already chosen the mate he wanted. This time, he was the one to give his lover a gentle kiss, the one to leave the hut first and return home.
However, he didn’t sleep. He packed a few belongings and gathered the offerings he planned to take Kano. He prayed to the Goddess Kwan Yin at his family shrine, asking for guidance and strength. Leaving a note bequeathing his land and home to Yori, in the ripening morning, the Goddess of Fortune gave him the sign that he was right to leave now.
The Shogun ordered one of his prize cows to be killed to feed his hungry, disgruntled workers and, when he received his portion, Askemua salted the beef, slicing and wrapping it in ti-
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leaf to keep it fresh. Dressing in his thickest kimono and his sturdiest hakama, rush-matting zori slippers on his feet, he left his quiet village.
Nobody would be paying attention. They would think he was searching for fruit. As he swept one last look over the village below him, he felt no regrets, only excitement and, as he looked up at Mount Fuji, he thought he saw wisps of smoke.
Oh yes, an eruption, all kinds of eruptions were possible.
He climbed for almost a full day, snatching fruit from cherry and peach trees, adding choice pieces to Kano’s bundle.
On the first night as he edged toward the forest, he felt his first moment of panic. It was cold and very wet in this Sea of Trees.
He glimpsed his first patches of volcanic rock and, for one second, contemplated returning home, but urged himself forward. It was as if the voice of his father spoke to him— when we walk into the future, we go empty handed. Do not be afraid.
He wondered if his father would encourage him to proceed on his journey. Who was up there, whispering to him? He decided not to question but press forward in his search of the man who shadowed all his days. The knowledge that he had finally done it, that he was one step closer, gave him the little shove he needed. He stepped into a peaceful mangrove, spreading the thick hemp cloth he spent weeks hand weaving and, after rolling his weary body into it, slept.
* * * *
He awoke before dawn to the tune of forest birds. It was an unusual sound since he’d never heard it before. The closest he had ever come to morning song was when traders from the big city of Edo arrived in the village singing, “Let’s trade, let’s trade!” They brought candles and candies in exchange for night waste, human excrement, which they took to factories in Edo that sold it as fertilizer. Asekmua smiled to himself. He’d saved a traded candle as an offering to Kano. Bundling up his belongings again, he tried to get his bearings, plunging fearlessly with the first pearly 8
