Page 55 of Snatched By the Sandman

There is so much cock, I buck, trying to pull away at first, but Hecate throbs inside me, circling her hips to go deeper. She devours my scream.

Panting, I roll my hips forward to adjust to the sheer size and girth of her. When her gaze locks onto mine, burning with otherworldly incandescence, I rocket my eyes wide open.

Serpents bulge and squeeze. Multiple dogs’ teeth sink onto my limbs—all to keep me motionless. Oh, Goddess!

“Don’t close those eyes, little dream weaver. I want to see the magic in your soul.”

Her black eyes glimmer. My heart ricochets as she pounds me with her she-wolf cock, each thrust like a soaked ram battering my insides. Each thrust increases in intensity and deepens until I’m teetering on the edge.

Like an unholy demoness, Hecate dominates me, devilish and carnal. I ache deep inside, but my inner muscles clench, needing more, burning for more. If I can take the God of Nightmares and the God of Dreams…but maybe this is my undoing. Maybe this is my limit. My breaking point.

“Yes, break for me, dream weaver,” she commands.

More she-wolf heat overthrows me, and Hecate lowers her jaws to my throat. My breath hitches. Something swells at the tip of the cock. She slides out with ease from how much I’m gushing, and that’s when I see the swollen and engorged flesh at the crown. Insanity delves deep within me at the understanding of what it is.

“Stay with me, Zenya. And take my lovers’ knot.”

With her goddess cock forcing its way in until it’s buried deep inside me, pumping harder, and with the other dogs’ tongues licking my breasts, pleasuring my nipples, Hecate sinks her teeth into my throat, drawing blood.

Throwing my head back with a shrill scream, I see stars. Eyes wide open, I come. Pulse ravishing my blood and heartbeat ravaging my ears, I explode into a climax like hot shattered feathers surging through me in waves to engulf my pussy and my face.

Hecate snaps, forces her monstrous knot to tear through me, and hooks it behind my pubic bone, triggering power convulsions of ecstasy to thunder through me. Ribbons of pure bliss erupt in heated streams that send my vision spinning.

The world around me spins like a kaleidoscope, bursting countless colors beyond my imagination.

Like I’m in the untamed eye of Hecate’s magic.

“Yes, take my essence, Zenya,” she growls, pouring ropes of her magic into me—sealed to me, blazing and burning more than the core of a star.

She is violence and harmony. She is poison and healing. She is a seeker and a maker.

She is the Keeper of all Keys. The ultimate Torchbearer. And the Crossroads of the Universe.

And I am… “My dark chosen one,” she purrs low, as my inner flesh milks her cock of all the magical droplets I can.

In the next instant, her mouth is on mine. Her Goddess mouth.

I pass out with her lips folding mine back and the unholy taste of her tongue inside me.

Chapter 18

“…why don’t we mix business with a little punishing pleasure?”

MORPHEUS

“Enter Sandman” by Metallica

After I’ve dealt with the storm and the astral beasts, I follow Zenya’s essence trail. It’s like black, glittery breadcrumbs.

Once the storm hit, my first priority was harnessing and subduing it. As long as she returned to the House of Mirrors, Zenya would be safe.

Her trail led from my castle to a portal in the wall and into this dark forest with the fusion of lost dreams. Pride in her triggers heated desire and surges blood right for my cock. I recognize this new dreamscape is where her duality merges. She has found the balance, coupling her light and darkness into a mesmerizing blend of radiance and shadow.

Much like my world, but while anyone can dream darkness into being or light, the essence of my alchemy and cell matteris neutral—neither good nor evil. I like to think of myself as morallygray—spanning far beyond the fifty shades nature.

Approaching the clearing, I conceal myself behind the trees. Smoke from the bonfire curls toward me, but the air is laced with the perfume of incense and cinnamon.

When I notice the familiar figure of Hecate lounging upon a bed of moss with her hounds surrounding her, I knead my brow and cage a groan. My wing muscles tighten.

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