Page 4 of Snatched By the Sandman

I pull out, cover her mouth with mine, and feed her the air she needs, tasting the dark honeyed eclipse.

Balls ready to explode, I contain myself, controlling my need to savor her.

In this silent communion, I envision the Eye of Morpheus—this powerful relic that will soon bind us together. Her dreams will be mine, and through her, I will taste the richness of human experience. I will feed on all those delicious emotions. My admiration for her grows with every second I examine her physical form as I will soon with her spiritual one.

Slaughter and chaos adorn her left arm in a fury of chaos, her battles inked into her flesh. Angry stitches coil around her skin like the aftermath of a monster’s carnage. I will give her new marks. Her wrist bears a bracelet of thorns.

A cage of bones tattooed for her ribs.

On the graceful left leg is a mosaic of splatterpunk and grimdark. A symptom of her need to escape the confines of humanity and give in to the dark insanity of the Id inside our souls. Bloody teeth and broken crow wings. Torture and depravity.

What a beautiful fucking apocalypse.

Bony fingertips tracing the serene pink forest on her right leg, I glide my knuckles along the center of her pelvis, marveling at how she encapsulates the balance.

Skimming my skull along the moths inside her left thigh, I breathe in the scent of her glistening arousal until I arrive at the impossible sanctum where heaven and hell pass like strangers tempting one another in the night.

Pushing her knees to her shoulders, fully exposing her to my eye, I examine her.

Rosy, lush flesh shimmering with her arousal. Gluttonous. What a delightful development to find a triangle piercing for her sweet, distended clit. A pretty yellow sunflower tipped on one side with a tiny skull on the other. A piercing that heightens pleasure through direct clitoral stimulation. Or vaginal. Or anal. I wonder if the puckered pink ring has been tried.

After years of traveling the world and hunting high after high, this wanderer is nowhere close to the definition of a virgin. She seizes pleasure of all kinds, including sexual. Another reason she is perfect for me. Her imagination will be vital when she arrives in my Realm of Nightmares.

But she has never been taken by one such as me.

How she will torment me. How I will punish her. She will take it all. Not because she’s a masochist. If anything, Zenya Myre is the opposite—too full of life and spirit, she feels too much. A mad storm of light and shadow, good and evil wars within her.

I will give her a siege.

First, I bury my skull in her soaked flesh, breathe her in, and draw torturous circles along her plump nub with my tongue. Her breath grows heavy. Her hips rise even in her sleep.

I work that swollen, little nodule with its pretty piercing. Long, slow strokes with the base to quick flicks from the tip. Iseal myself to her flesh, letting her drench my bones and teeth until her center spasms, dripping for me. A mania possesses me until I’m stabbing phalanges into her soaked flesh.

“Come for me, my strange and sweet dreamer,” I growl, approving when those strong inner muscles lock around my bony fingers. She gives me her release, her body shuddering with her ecstasy.

With her body softening into the bed from the aftermath of her climax, I tilt my head, gazing at my mad Alice, who will fall into a world darker than the darkest imaginings of Wonderland.

“Our journey begins now, Zenya.”

The flicker of her eyelids suggests she hears me. Her soul resonates with my words, acknowledging the bond we will soon share. I mount her, spread her folds to bare her hungry opening, then touch her chest once again, savoring the quickened rhythm of her heartbeat.

“You will never be ready,” I tell her, willing the words to penetrate the fabric of her soul. “You will never remember these moments. But you will seek me when you awake in my world. And try as you will to resist, you will be my slave.”

I probe the crown of my cock along her wet lips, then part her folds, and slide inside the opening, which sucks me in. “Yes, you love my domination, don’t you, little killer?” Our energy is a shared entity. Her world is crumbling away as she prepares to shatter for me.

The Eye of Morpheus is our shared destiny, and together, we will explore the realms of dreams and nightmares. So many centuries trying to create a weaver. So many centuries of only dream walkers who cannot give me their emotions. Others were not strong enough, and they passed into the afterworld.

Zenya is the weaver I’ve been waiting for. And my brother’s Eye will bring her mind and spirit flesh into my world while her true body lies here. With her under my control, I will control herpain and pleasure, numbing and healing her when necessary…unraveling her and crushing her when I desire.

A dangerous risk. Her mind could collapse beneath the gravity of my godhood. Her heart could stop. And her soul would be lost to me, whether back to Purgatory or…Hades. But I’ve seen her nightmares and felt her terror, her darkness. She loves her demons.

She is ready for me.

I lower my head, skimming my tongue along her delicious lips that taste of honeyed violence. “I will haunt you, corrupt you, and save you until you kneel before me, ready for me to rule you for eternity.”

Throwing my head back with a voiceless roar, I drive my god cock of nightmares into Zenya Alice Myre, fill every iota of her, and devour her sleeping scream.

I implant the Eye, knowing she is the only one worthy of its power.

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