Today's guest is TAS - Terrance Aldon Shaw - with an excerpt from his paranormal erotic novel The Seven Seductions:
Haunted by a demon’s prophecy…
Gretchen grows up dreading the destiny she cannot escape—not even within the walls of a convent—the lustful longings of the otherworldly creature she knows only as The Nameless One.
Uncanny things have always had a way of happening ever since her older sister read aloud from a book of black magic, unwittingly awakening the demon. But now, after having become Sister Mary Chastity, Gretchen must struggle with the stirrings of her own long-buried desires, the undeniable yearnings that overpower her flesh, and the guilt that inevitably follows when memory intrudes upon the present and dark secrets come back to confound her.
On “holy retreat” in a vacation house by the shores of a lake in the Great North Woods, Mary Chastity meets Magic, a handsome, carefree young artist who tests her vows even as he speaks to something deep within her heart. Can this beautiful boy help her to face her fears—or is he part of the future The Nameless One has foreseen for her all along? Is Magic the key to Mary Chastity’s salvation—or nothing less than the incubus itself in human guise?
All is ultimately revealed when past and present converge, and Mary Chastity is forced to confront her demons in a blazing finale that takes her to the very depths of Hell and back!
Gretchen lay alone in the dark, wide awake on a dull sword-edge of anticipation. Excruciatingly alert, she had ceased to live in the present, her whole attention focused squarely on what was about to happen. Her mind was racing out ahead of her, minutes into the future, building up a terrible momentum as it roared past possibilities like sights along a railway line, and she a reluctant passenger, not wanting to imagine, yet wholly incapable of not imagining.
Is he going to finish what he started in the bathroom?
Was it her fear that held her captive—made it impossible to move? Or was it her curiosity, her need? No one had drugged her. No one was holding her down, or threatening her. She could get up and leave if she wanted, run away if she felt like it, put it all behind her and never look back.
Why is he making me wait? Oh! Why doesn’t he hurry up and get here?
Her hearing had become so unbearably acute that sound itself was palpable, dull blades slicing into her skin, and she startled at the slightest noise. Is that him? Is he here? Oh God! Oh God! Yet, she remained still, if unrelaxed, muscles tensed like taut bondage ropes suspending her an inch or so above the bed.
Please! I can’t stand it—this waiting, this not knowing—not even a second longer! He can do whatever he wants. I don’t care. Only let it happen now—
“Oh!” Gretchen started up as someone rattled the doorknob from outside. A burst of frozen heat erupted from the middle of her gut as the tension that had been building up was violently released; as the “later” into which she had projected herself suddenly became the “now,” and she was born into a new and terrifying reality.
A sliver of dull reddish light slowly widened across the bed as the door creaked open. A black smudge loomed up within the middle of this lambent pillar, resolving itself into the negative image of a human form, a faceless wraith, stepping through the portal of a nightmare.
My shadow is upon you now and you are bound to me forever.
The intruder shut the door, plunging the room back into dusky obscurity. Gretchen felt its presence in spite of her senses’ confusion, the preternatural heat of its intention projected towards her as it came on through the pouring gloom.
“Tyge?”
“Mm.” He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at her for a moment, or so Gretchen supposed, for she still could not make out his face.
“What are you… what are you going to…”
Swiftly, silently, he hooked a meaty finger into the wedged point of her décolletage and pulled, rending the flimsy fabric with a single merciless motion. The negligée fluttered open, limp and useless at her sides, its stylish shoulder straps framing her neck like a pair of drooping wings. She could feel the sickly moistness of the air caressing her newly-exposed flesh, her breasts and belly.
She heard the ominous clink and snap of a belt impatiently unbuckled, the buzz of metal teeth, muffled by the parting denim, as he unzipped the fly on his jeans. Tyge hummed softly to himself, a lazy series of three notes, indistinguishably off-key, maddeningly repeated at random.
“Mmm-MM-mm.”
He toyed with her, pressing his cock against her inner thigh, drawing it slowly back and forward again to plow the coarse tangles of her mound. His penis seemed almost unbelievably heavy to her, a balky iron club wrapped in velvet, as thick as her own upper arm, hard, yet not wholly rigid, its movements imprecise, unwieldy, clumsy in a childish sort of way, still uncannily aware of its own terrible power.
She whimpered, wanting it.
“Mmm-MM-mm.” Tyge hummed the strange tune, more incantation than melody, ignoring her need, unmoved, yet in constant, slow, delicious motion.
“I think… I’m ready.” Gretchen whispered the words more bravely than she felt them. She lay on her back, limbs splayed wide, wanting him to see her—all of her—and know that she was his to do with as he pleased.
“Mmm-MM-mm…”
“Please?” She was practically weeping now, her voice ragged with emotion as she tossed her head to the side in a fevered agony of longing. “Please, I want…”
“Mm-MM?” He stopped in mid-hum. A bolt of lightning ripped through her lower body as he brought the tip of his cock into contact with her clitoris.
“Oh Jesus God!” Gretchen clutched the bedding on either side of the mattress, gathered up into tight wads in her fists, as if bracing herself in this way might keep her soul from flying apart.
“Mmm-hm-hm!” Tyge seemed to chuckle as he pressed at her again.
“Please,” Gretchen sobbed, “now!”
“Mm-MM-mm…” In no hurry, he rested a flat palm in the wide valley of her bosom.
“C’mon!” She shoved her pelvis up at him. “I’m right here!”
“Mmmm…”
“Now!” Gretchen sobbed through gritted teeth. “Now!” the word repeated like a mantra as her desperation rose, inflected in a dozen different ways. “Now!” she moaned and whined and begged and pleaded until she was cursing unaware, lashing out blindly in her frustration. “Now, goddamn it! Now! I want… I want…”
“Mm?”
“I want you… I want you to…”
“Mm-MM—”
“I want you to…”
“Mmm?”
“Fuck me!” she screamed at last. “Now! I don’t care! Just do it now!”
He was already prying her lips apart with the tip of his cock. She felt it quivering there like a diviner’s rod, seeking the hidden well of wetness deep within her folds.
“Oooh!” Gretchen moaned, the sound abruptly cut off by a sharp intake of breath as he eased forward. “Oh… Ohhh…. OHHHH!” She screamed again, but not from pain or fear.
He leaned over, bearing down, filling her easily though he came into her with twisted serpentine thrusts, as if careening around a corner. Their movements were wildly out of sync, like awkward swimmers reaching out for one another beneath the water, repelled by mutual surface tension.
“Fuck me!” She was panting, her voice barely more than a bated squeak tinged with the pain of unfulfilled desire. They moved obliquely together, joined at the crotch, twisting and corkscrewing around the immovable axis of his penis, she turning her thighs away from his, off-center, a little to the left; he rolling his hips in the opposite direction in order to pull her back into alignment, though he continued to impale her with a steady, mechanical rhythm.
“Oooooooh!” That noise again, somewhere between crying and singing, though Gretchen was barely aware of any sound at all.
Tyge crawled on top and crouched above her in the bed like a soldier poised to do pushups, pinning her there with the bony weight of his hips. Her moans came in syncopated gasps, soft replies to the regular pulsing thrusts that drove her back and back towards the middle of the bed, the syllables rising in pitch like the sound of water filling a narrow glass to the brim.
Her limbs seemed impossibly buoyant, her whole body in a state of languid atrophy, shrinking down with each relentless thrust until all weight, all substance was concentrated like an imploding singularity in her cunt. Gretchen opened her mouth to cry out again, but no sound reached her ears. All sense was lost. All save for the feeling of those tender inner walls eagerly expanding around her lover’s extravagant girth, aspiring to become the center of a new cosmos, a cornucopia of pleasure, overflowing with light.
And they had only just begun.
Buy The Seven Seductions at:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Terrance Aldon Shaw (TAS to his friends) was born and raised somewhere to the left of Chicago in that vast whitebread wilderness known as the American Heartland. As a kid, he passed the time by creating his own graphic novels and “pretend” screenplays, conversing with a brilliant circle of imaginary friends, and dreaming about escape from the stifling phony wholesomeness and pious pabulum of small-town life.
Now devoting full time to writing and reviewing, TAS specializes in mainstream fiction with strong erotic themes and explicit sexual content. His work might best be described as “psycho-rotica,” as he prefers to explore the complex, fascinating inner world of sex; the thoughts, feelings and emotion s that accompany the erotic experience.
Readers can find Terrance Aldon Shaw’s books in both electronic and traditional print at most on-line retailers. His reviews of erotic fiction, musings on the craft of writing, and the occasional free short story are posted on his blog, Erotica For The Big Brain.
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