Page 53 of Snatched By the Sandman

Abeautiful dark energy ripples through the air as Hecate begins to circle me with a hungry glint in her eye.

All she wears is the sheer black sheath, which accentuates her luscious curves. The flawless round hips of a goddess, sharp and delicate angles, power and strength in every muscle. She bears a regal grace—something I could never mimic.

My skin overheats, breaking out in warm tingles.

Some of Hecate’s intricate braids begin to coil onto the crown of her head, lifting the thick tresses until they cascade to the base of her spine instead of the ground.

The crackling fires awaken, bursting an incense-like fragrance into the air, casting the perfume scent of cinnamon and sage. The Goddess of Magic presses her lips into a pleased and primal smile.

Enchanting is too weak of a word for the scene.

As if the moths and fireflies have merged into some new creation, they flutter toward me, reminding me of glowing wisps with pulsing tendrils. Like glittering kite tails, the wisps occasionally brush my body, tickling my skin. They remind me of little jellyfish.

“Now, isn’t this a charming little development?” Hecate muses and lifts a finger toward one of the wisps.

Two settle upon my nipples, and I arch, hissing. The serpents squeeze their bodies, tightening their holds on me while their tongues rasp at my skin.

“Wha-what are they?” I breathe out as more brush my skin.

Something like a melodic whisper lilts in my ears, and I gasp as the wisps pulsate with a glow that times to those whispers. Are they—talking to me?

Zenya…the voice echoes in my subconscious.

Is something else talking to me?

“It is rare, but sometimes lost dreams find their way to the heart of a weaver,” Hecate explains while capturing a wisp and touching her lips to the soft fluff before releasing it. “Like following a trail of magical crumbs, but the crumbs are your essence. The spirits of these lost dreams have united with your imagination, Zenya. When they sense life, mortal essence, and human blood, they will always gather around such. Morpheus will be quite proud.”

“Mmm…” I inhale sharply as more wisps collect along my skin, gifting me those heated tingles but with pricking undercurrents. Almost like the mildest of static shock. “Oh, please…more!” I plead.

At first, the wisps seem timid, but a few more tearful pleas, more arching my body, more of the serpent tongues kindling my blood, and the lost dreams skate across my skin, casting warm prickles along my belly, my legs, my arms. They seem to know what I need, what I want, what I most desire, but they take theirtime. I’ve arched so high, my hips and ass no longer touch the ground.

Under Hecate’s carnal gaze, the wisps shower my skin like a host of shattered stars, brushing their tendrils back and forth. My thighs clench, my core desperate for fulfillment, flesh crying out for bliss while the wisps slide all around my breasts that grow swollen and heavy, nipples puckering. The others crawl along my inner thighs, their tiny tendrils creating a dance of sensations. Electric tingles course through all my skin.

“Oh, gods!” I whimper, gazing at the swirling gray sky, surrendering to the sensations.

“Good girl,” Hecate says, towering above me, her body heat cascading around me. I breathe in her scent, a sensual musk like currant wine, Amyris, and smoky dark lilies, unfurling along my body.

This place is like a drug of dark magic. The deepest and blackest of aphrodisiacs.

Little by little, the wisps twirl upon my areola, closing in with their dancing vibrations that seem to speak the language of my body—the natural rhythms of my flesh and blood. The others skirt my labia, radiating their energy upon my wet folds.

My fingers clench so tightly, and the serpent bodies constrict harder to keep me anchored. Sweat breaks out all over my skin.

Some wisps below pull apart my pubic lips, freeing others to gently sweep across my pussy, tickling my slit with their liquid-warm currents. My inner muscles flutter.

“So close!” I shut my eyes.

A moment later, they kiss my pebbled nipples and suckle my clit, shocking me with those electrically heated tingles and cocooning me in their liquid light.

Just as it feels like I’m about to snap, a gust of air surges over me, and I moan as the wisps flutter away.

“No,” I protest as Hecate bids the wisps to collect around the bonfire instead.

Her floor-length black hair begins to sway, moving by an invisible wind. Her intricate braids glitter with eldritch symbols and a deep, bronze light that mirrors her radiant skin.

A wave of heat and lust overcomes me.

Hecate’s eyes, dark as the abyss, lock onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. The goddess’s form seems to shimmer, and the air around us grows heavy with an ominous but ethereal energy.

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