The Painting

The grand old house stood alone at the end of the long private, tree-lined avenue.  Proud and defiant amidst the overrun gardens and feral lawns, it appeared impervious to the ravages of time.  Whilst some considered it cursed and worthy only of demolition, Paul saw it differently.  He could soften his gaze to the harshness of its neglect and see the true splendour beneath.  And soon he would own it.

Since stumbling across it that fateful August morning, he had been unable to clear his mind of the vision.  With each successive visit he grew more enraptured.  It couldn't have been more ideal had it been fashioned straight from his dreams.  Yet, as perfect as the old house was, Paul also found it disturbing in ways he could not quite explain.

To discover the place of his dreams and subsequently learn that it was for sale, all at a time in his life when he could suddenly afford such a luxury, was almost too perfect to be true.  And therein, perhaps, lay the source of his foreboding.

The feeling may also have been due in part to the odd, evasive manner of the estate agent.  Suspicion and distrust had subsequently led Paul down a path of costly inspections and searches but in the end the house was given a clean bill of health.  Again it seemed almost too good to be true but he no longer cared.

Standing alone inside the large wrought iron gate, he gazed once more at the neat stone and timber dwelling.  Despite the unkempt surrounds, it reminded him of a painting.  It was even quite possible that such a painting existed somewhere in the labyrinth of halls or old stone cellars that he had yet to fully explore.  The previous owner had reportedly been an artist who spent much of his later years indulging in painting; or so the story went.   The agent had been somewhat reluctant to discuss the man but the house was full of excellent works, so the stories were most likely true.

Paul tried to imagine living here.  It was a large house for two people but Catherine did not seem concerned.  They shared the same sense of adventure and this house, it seemed, was perfect for them both.  He also considered it a fitting place to retire and work on his music.  Retire! It was such a strange concept for one so young as himself.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he pushed onward down the partially overgrown path that led to the large front door.  Unlikely as it was, he didn't care to chance being seen, since strictly he shouldn't be here.  The lure of seeing the house one more time before signing contracts - alone this time without the bothersome agent - was too strong to resist.

To his relief he found the front door securely locked which hopefully meant that no one was here.  Using the key which he had discreetly procured two days earlier, he opened the door and hurriedly closed it behind him.

Once inside he breathed a long sigh of relief.  This was his first private moment in a house that was soon to be his and Catherine's.  Having mostly seen only downstairs, he headed straight for the long curving staircase intent on exploring the many bedrooms.

As he reached the top of the stairs a faint, fleeting sound caught his attention.  It was like a distant, harsh exhalation of air.  Caught by surprise, he froze, waiting to hear it again.  The idea that he might not be alone came as a shock.   Guilt and fear gnawed at the edge of his thoughts whilst he tried to think who it might be.  Neither the agent nor the estate's solicitor had any reason to be here and to his knowledge no one else had any right.  The most likely possibility was a vagrant.

Deciding to investigate further, he crept forward in slow deliberate movements, hoping to locate the source of the sound without being discovered.  The house remained in silence for so long that he began to think he had imagined it.  Suddenly it came again, a sharp audible intake of breath that seemed to come from a room two doors down.

The door was slightly ajar and now that he studied it he could make out a faint glow of light coming from within.  Torn between curiosity and the desire to flee, he gave in to the former and continued his way forward.  Halfway to the door he heard the sound again.  This time it sounded distinctly feminine, with a subtle yet unmistakable sexual quality.  The hair on the back of his neck stood up but it was not from fear.  The next sound to reach him further confirmed his suspicions.  Slightly louder than before, it was most definitely coming from a woman.  He heard her sharp gasp and this time she uttered a strange muted cry.  Though brief, the sound left him quite shaken.

His cheeks grew warm and his ears rang faintly in the silence that followed.  He inched further forward, drawn by a need to know the identity of this woman, and - if his hunch was correct - that of her mystery lover.  He began to imagine a clandestine meeting of two secret lovers but the vision lacked plausibility.  Why come here to this old vacant house? In its present state it was hardly the place for a romantic liaison.

As his slow measured progress brought him closer to the door, he could more clearly hear the sounds from within.  The woman's soft cries burst out at regular intervals, in an even rhythmic procession that was almost hypnotic.

Though he found it unthinkable to be sneaking up on the couple like this, his efforts to force himself away were utterly futile.  He felt drawn by an urge beyond his understanding.  Reaching the edge of the doorway, he stopped at last.  Though still unable to see inside, he could now hear the woman quite clearly.  At regular intervals she would cry out in obvious pleasure and for a time afterwards he could hear her ragged gasps as she struggled to regain her breath.  He sensed a strange enigmatic tone to her voice that suggested both apprehension and excitement in equal measures.

It all seemed so unreal.  His attention became focussed solely on the sounds of pleasure coming from within and the image it conjured in his mind.  The woman's lover - if indeed there was one - remained strangely silent and as time passed curiosity began to erode his cautious resolve.  After a brief inner struggle he edged his way closer to the small gap in the door.

To his disappointment, the gap provided him with a view of the room that stopped at the foot of the bed.  Yet even that narrow glimpse was enough to take his breath away.  The room was unnaturally dark, almost sinister, with the only light coming from an old candelabra set alone upon a heavy wooden dresser.  The angle of the mirror showed him a different view of the room but the lovers remained out of sight.  For a brief tantalising moment he considered nudging the door open a fraction more but common sense quickly prevailed.

As if in response, a malign draft began to flow in through the doorway as though the room itself were drawing in a long slow breath.  The air that flowed past the back of his nec felt unnaturally hot with a tangible odour of sweat, perfume and sex that made his nostrils sting.  He spun around, not knowing what to expect but the hallway was empty.  Puzzled and filled with unease, he turned back to the door.  To his utter horror he found it was slowly opening inward, pushed by the mysterious air current.  Already out of reach, he didn't dare try to grasp the doorknob for fear of making a noise.   In a state of near panic, he started to edge backwards when his eyes locked upon the scene within.

The vision that met him left him paralysed with shock.  As he stared at the couple on the bed, two realisations struck him at once.  The first was the identity of the woman.  In the back of his mind he had nurtured the notion that the voice was familiar but he was totally unprepared for the truth.  There, lying naked upon the bed, was his very own love, Catherine.  There was little time to absorb this information before the other aspect of the vision struck him like a blow.

The man with her was not a man at all.  He was not even human.

Though Paul's mind refused to accept what he saw, there was no denying what it looked like.  There on the bed, making love to his Catherine, was a creature all too familiar.  He had seen its powerful demonic image depicted so clearly in the painting downstairs in the library.  The fiery red eyes had appeared so real that he'd found it difficult to look away.

Paul's vision blurred and he staggered, almost losing his balance.  Leaning against the door frame for support, his hand clamped over his mouth, he stared at the scene within and tried to will it to go away.  He couldn't believe what he saw but he knew he was neither dreaming nor hallucinating.

The creature was huge and heavily muscled, with features that were human-like but only just.  It's sinuous upper body glistened in the candlelight but its lower body, though hidden in the shadows, seemed covered in a coarse wiry hair.  Pinned beneath it, Catherine lay twisting and shuddering, her eyes closed, her brow damp with perspiration.   She was breathing heavily as the creature drew slowly back.  A moment later, before his very eyes, it pushed back into her, wringing a fresh cry of passion from her lips.

Paul could not move or breath.  He was too much in shock to do anything but stare, his mouth stupidly agape.  Time seemed to slow down as the creature held still, deep inside her.  Catherine panted for air, trying to recover from the swift penetration.  A visible shudder passed through her when it slowly began to pull back once again.  The tension in her body grew visibly as it slowly drew out of her.  A soft, almost despairing moan spilled from her lips as the creature paused in readiness.   For a brief instant he caught a glimpse of the creature's thick, massive erection poised between her pale trembling thighs.

With a conscious effort Paul forced himself to start breathing, fearing that he would pass out any moment if he did not.  As Catherine cried out again, a shudder ran down his spine.  It was a strange almost thrilling sensation born partly from horror and partly from shameful arousal.

Then, as the beast paused inside her again, it slowly turned its head to gaze directly at Paul.

He froze with terror.  The creature's fierce countenance spoke of incredible power and coldness.  He wondered briefly if it intended to kill him but it did nothing more than stare.  Beneath it, Catherine breasts rose and fell heavily as she tried to recover her breath.  As the seconds passed she seemed to grow confused by the creature's sudden stillness.  She opened her eyes and tried to focus on it, then noticing the direction of its gaze, turned to see why it had stopped.

Her expression turned instantly to one of disbelief and horror.  A second later she looked away but in the instant before she did so, Paul witnessed another expression that could only be described as guilt.  In that split second he knew for certain that she was here of her own free will.

Suddenly she began to struggle, fighting against the beast in a desperate attempt to free herself.  The complete ineffectiveness of her actions was shocking in its own right.

A deep rumbling laugh filled the air.  Paul knew it came from the beast but the sound seemed to emanate from all around.  Still laughing, it reared up and drove itself into her again.  Catherine moaned and thrashed beneath it, her eyes screwed shut from the force of its thrust.  It plunged again, and then again, with the same vigorous energy, establishing a steady deep rhythm.   She shuddered and gasped, begging it to stop but the beast had no intention of doing so.

Suddenly enraged, Paul snapped out of his trance-like state.

"Get off her!" He cried, launching himself forward.

Before he had taken a single step, intolerable pain flared up in his chest.  It felt as if his heart were about to burst.  For a moment his vision went black and when it returned he was on the floor, crumpled in a heap like an old sack.  The pain had left him but the residual memory of it lingered like fire.

He knew it had been a warning.  He understood without a doubt that the creature could kill him by sheer effort of will if it so chose.  Still gasping from the memory of the pain, he raised his head cautiously to watch what he could not stop.

Oblivious now to all but the beast, Catherine lay pinned to the mattress, panting and moaning in helpless surrender.

Behold the Slut! The voice boomed out.

The walls seemed to shake from the power and depth of the voice.

Behold the wanton whore.  You think she is pure? She couples with The Beast and she moans with pleasure.  Hear her!

As the words blasted his ears, he saw the beast bear down upon her, forcing himself even deeper.  Catherine groaned weakly and begged him to stop but her pleas were ignored.  For a brief moment the beast drew completely back, pulling all the way out, leaving her limp and panting beneath it.  As Paul looked on helplessly he realised with horror what the creature was doing.  Gaping in disbelief, he saw the beast's second erection jutting rigidly just below the first.  As it plunged back into her, his cheeks coloured hotly at the realisation of why there were two.

Behold the slut's arousal.  The voice boomed again.  She is wanton.  You think you know her but you are a fool! The needs of her body alone called me here.  With you as my witness I will make her mine!

The words brought Catherine partly from her stupor and she began to struggle anew.  Paul had not realised until then that she too could hear the voice.  The beast, unaffected by her efforts, continued to take her in a tireless rhythm.  She beat the heels of her palms against its chest, bucked and twisted with all her strength and finally fell back exhausted.  Her deep heavy breathing remained in time with the beast's powerful thrusts.

Paul could see her grimacing with each thrust but her gasping whimpers spoke more of reluctant pleasure.  She was, beyond a doubt, completely helpless in the face of what he was doing to her.

Yes, my little wanton beauty.  Give in to your desires.  Soon you will be mine.  I will take you with me.  I will share you with my minions.  Then you will truly know what pleasure and anguish are.  Yes, my pretty.  It excites you.  I can feel it.  Give voice to your pleasure.  Your release will make you mine!

Paul was helpless to do anything but watch as the beast continued to ravish and taunt her.  He could see in her face that the beast's words were true.  He had seen that look before, though never quite so strong.  She was nearing the point of no return, where nothing could stop her rise to orgasm.  He could see her fighting it but it was as though a darker side of herself was deeply excited by what was happening.  With each passing second her control grew weaker.

He felt as if he were in a trance.  He could not take his eyes from her.  In that moment, she seemed more beautiful then he had ever seen her berfore.  He saw the sheer sensuality that had first drawn him to her.  To his shame he found himself also aroused.  The sight of her pleasure, though devastating, was too erotic for him not to be affected.  He could do nothing but watch in numb horror and wait.

The look in her eyes gave her away before anything else.  Her beautiful eyes grew wide with disbelief at the strength of her imminent climax.  She knew the shocking implications of what was about to happen but she could not stop it.  The potent blend of fear and lust, of pleasure and pain, and of shame and excitement, pushed her over the edge.

Her quickening breath became a rapid succession of harsh panting gasps.  The gasps became shrieks as her body thrashed, bucking upwards, twisting and arching.  She struggled for breath and whimpered with despair as each successive wave of pleasure grew more intense.

Strange images formed in Paul's mind - images which he knew came from the beast and which he greatly feared could be seen by Catherine as well.

In the first image, a naked woman lay on a huge stone altar.  A large creature, not unlike a minataur, approached, turning her over and lifting her to her knees.  From within its shaggy fur jutted a large shining erection, comparable in size to the beast's but with deep undulations along its length.  It worked half the length into the unresisting woman and began to engage in a bizarre act of copulation.  The image was fleeting, lasting only a few seconds before another took its place.   In the next, a woman was writhing within a mass of thick writhing tentacles.   Some caressed her continuously whilst others thrust inside her.  The scene faded again and now he could see a woman standing amidst a pack of wild wolf-like creatures.  Her dress had been mostly shredded from the waist down, leaving only tatters of cloth that did little to conceal her.  She looked completely exhausted and out of breath.  The bright shining eyes of each creature was clearly visible.  One lunged at her back, knocking her forward and causing her to stagger to her knees.  It quickly mounted her.  The next image took its place and shortly after that came another.  Each vision showed a different woman subjected to a different fate.

You will know these and more! Boomed the beast, its voice triumphant and joyous.

Throughout the play of images, Catherine had been driven from one powerful climax to another.

Now, as the last image faded, a vapour began to rise from the floor surrounding the bed.  The beast began to grunt and Catherine thrashed beneath him.  As the smoke grew thicker it began to obscure them.   In the last moments, Paul caught a final glimpse of the beast's powerful buttocks clenching in wild spasmodic jerks as it pumped its seed deep into Catherine.  Between ragged breaths, she pleaded desperately until her words gave way to helpless moans yet again.

The vapour grew thick and acrid, stinging Paul's eyes and forcing him to lie close to the floor for breathable air.  Somewhere amidst his struggles to breath he realised that the room had fallen silent.  When the haze finally cleared, both Catherine and the beast were gone, leaving him alone and desolate in the large empty house.

The End