Member-only story
We Are the Heathens You Fear in the Dark
An Erotic Tale
and i must be a heathen (don’t get me believin’)
and i must be a heathen (don’t get me believin’)
Sandra knew the cost when she invited men like Alabastor Sigfried into her life. He was the one who kept his cool while dressed in a suit and tie — but she knew better than to cross him. He was the type of man who’d have no problem tying ropes around your wrists as he had his way with you in a closeted room.
“Come closer,” he whispered one evening, using his index finger to beckon her near. She took tentative steps until she stood before him as if she were under a trance of some kind. Only when they stood within inches of each other, both their chests heaving as if they’d run a mile in ten seconds, did he settle his hands on her shoulders. He winked at her, however briefly, before he growled, “Take off your clothes.”
One by one, she slid off the scarf she wore and let it puddle on the floor. Then she began unbuttoning her blouse, slowly, so achingly slow, that Alabastor’s eyes were dark with lust as he watched her. Only when she stood in her bra and panties did she stop, looking to him for some kind of direction.
“Get down on your knees,” he said, soft, before he ran his hand along the crown of her head. “I want you to submit to me, love. Will you do…
