1. Lucifer's Bow 2


    Date: 8/18/2015, Categories: Taboo, Author: adagio_sabadicus, Rating: 9, Source: LushStories

    face. "I told you, its Lady K. Now, get out of sight. I have to talk with the gardener, and while I am doing that, you had best return my things to this room." ~~~ Like an explosion of thunder, as if Horsemen of the Apocalypse were overhead, the house shook on its foundation. The winds became violent as I heard the shaking trees hitting the side of the house. I was in my bedroom, and I was becoming aroused. Earlier that afternoon, with a fair warning of imminent storms, the young gardener she hired had shuttered the windows. The gardener was like a puppy following her around as she gave him instructions. I felt the presence of a silent breeze in my room, and the pages in a magazine took on a life of animation in my imagination. They were shuffling like playing cards, and stopped at a picture of a naked Kat, drinking from a breast-shaped coconut. The caption: 'Cult Milk.' There were many pictures with the same landscape, and I finally recognized the old farmhouse. It belonged to "Old (peg-leg) Shim", a retired school teacher. Taking a pencil from my bed table, I made a note to remember Cult Milk. I turned a page, and on the centerfold was a woman whose cunt was impaled by a wooden peg. Her mouth seemed to be drooling as her eyes glared at me. People were in a circle, young and old...hard cocks, limp dicks, natural tits, and flat tits. 'What was the milk?' I asked myself. Pre-cum was oozing down the side of my penis, and I had an urge from an inner voice to pierce my nipples. ...
    I found a safety pin, but I needed two. I slipped from my room and soon found a second one. Grabbing a bottle of alcohol from the bathroom, I made a retreat. First, I ran to Kat's room and looked in her notepad for Cult Milk. There it was! It went on to say the cult was in need of a couple women who had recently given birth. The coven called them cows. Why was there a dairy-farm milking-machine in the garage? I rushed back to my room and swashed my nipples with the icy alcohol, then sterilized the safety-pins with my cigarette lighter. Squelching screams, I did it. I was pinned! As cum glazed and dried on my dick, cold air came up through the register from below. I had drunk some of Kat's booze to get a high, hoping the pricking wouldn't hurt. Looking at my reflection, I admired my new safety-pin nipple jewels. My penis was small; that was fact. I had kept a pair of Kat's high heels, and put them on. Again, I looked in the mirror at how the heels accented my calves. There was chanting below, growing in intensity as if a requiem for a mass. I heard words I could not decipher, but my penis was stirring. Could I have unconsciously predicted a wake or ceremony, and whose cars were parked in parallel in the back of the house? Then the lights went out, causing shadows to dance on the wall from the lightning flashing through the louvered slats of the shutters. Kat had told me that my imagination ran wild because of the horror novels I read. I felt for my flashlight, only to find its ...