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Diana 3/3
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Diana
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Part III
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Michael came back to consciousness to find himself erect
against the aging oak, the rough bark pressed into the tender skin of
back and buttocks. His arms had been drawn carefully back and tied
with some sort of cord, maybe vines. She was standing in front of
him, smiling that bright smile again. He was still dizzy.
"I have a question for you." she said.
"Well, I have a lot of questions for you!" Michael began to
bluster. He was suddenly terrifyingly, exilharatingly sure that he
would not be seeing his girlfriend, his job, their apartment or her
rats again. Now that he had been stripped of his clothing, he felt
oddly free to gaze his fill, and his eyes drank in the curves and
planes of her body, broken only by a patch of flaming hair.
She seemed to enjoy his gaze, continuing to smile as she
watched his eyes watching her. Then she spoke agian.
"What do you want?"
Suddenly time seemed to still and thicken so that Michael
had all the time he needed to remember: the days of college when he
and his friends, self-proclaimed geniuses, would stay up till
dawn promising to see the world and taste its women in wide open
fields and hot dark rooms; the clarity of nights without sleep as he
talked and fucked and laughed with a girl with wide dark eyes who'd
left him when once he slept too late; dancing naked in the rain, all
alone. But closer was job, cats, safety, overpowering fear, and the
love of a woman probably still asleep back home. And now he knew how
much he loved her after all, so much more than either of them had
ever thought. So that he almost said, 'to go home'. But he'd gotten
too much sleep lately, it seemed.
"You." he answered, suddenly certain, suddenly sure.
And then she was laughing above him as she reached out and
sliced apart the bonds with impossibly sharp fingernails. The women
surrounded them, touching them everywhere it seemed as her skin slid
against his ready body and she bent to kiss his neck. That was the
first and only pain, a sudden sharp tearing though he did not scream
as he worshipped her with strong limbs and violent burning thrusts.
Somehow she managed to say just then, "Only that, beloved,
for the right answer" before rising to meet him, her red hair falling
around him in streams of blood and fire, their long red nails raking
down his back. And so Michael rose to ecstasy, fully conscious,
fully clear that nothing, nothing could be beyond this.
***
Hours later, they had long since bathed the last traces away,
and they were once again beautiful in the moonlight. The wildness had
faded for a while, sated by that long orgy in the sunset splendor of
fallen leaves. The blond women were dancing slowly and langorously in
the outpouring of the full moon. On Diana's face was something
that on another might be mistaken for regret; but he had been lost
from that first moment, after all. And then she joined them in their
dance, and it grew wild once again.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
January 13, 1994
Note: Some may claim that Diana should have been virgin; but I don't
have much faith in the virtues of virginity.
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