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Erotic Horror | Pressing Flesh

Erotic Horror

New Release – ProbeD by the Alien


Hello readers, and thank you for allowing me to share today!!

ProbeD by the Alien (Alien Sex Slave Series)
A romantic evening in the park turns into a group of friends worst nightmare, as they are abducted by aliens who use their bodies anyway they want to.
Ginger Singh and Roxie Elms are a duo of erotica writers pushing the envelope and enjoying the hell out of it. Check out our stalker links to keep up with our work!
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I came to in the dark not able to see in front of me. There was something holding my arms above my head, and something holding my feet to some type of platform. I was stood straight up, and I could tell that I wasn’t wearing any clothes.

“Hello,” I called out and heard someone whimpering to my left.

Before I had a chance to call out to them the platform started to move, and took me straight down. I was facing the ground and falling. I started to scream loudly. There was a light where the ground should be. It was a floor of some sort covered in blue circles that were lighting the surrounding area. I screamed louder as I continued falling through the air towards the floor. Just before I hit, the lights on the platform slowed down, and I was upright again. We were in some type of arena. I could see Carl across from me still unconscious on his own platform. He was completely naked and his dick was being held straight out by a metal device. He was huge, twice the size of Thomas in girth and length. The metal apparatus must have kept him hard.

I stared longer than I meant to but couldn’t help myself. It was no wonder Diana was always so happy. I felt like I was dreaming, almost as if I had been drugged. As more lights cut on around us I saw that we were all four in the same situation strapped to black platforms, naked, and tied up. Thomas was looking around frantic, hard again from the metal brace holding his dick.

“Are you okay babe,” he called out to me when his eyes landed on my naked body.

“Do I fucking look okay, Thomas?” I was angry he would ask.

“I meant are you hurt. Did someone hurt you?” Okay that was kind of sweet.

“No, but I would like to know what the hell is going on.” Diana was still whimpering. I looked over at her trembling body. Her big natural breasts were jiggling in the black leather straps that had her chest pressed back against the black board. I looked down noticing my breasts were free, but they weren’t as big as hers.

As more and more lights came on, it became apparent that we were in an arena full of people who began to cheer. They weren’t people though; they were green with giant heads. Fucking aliens! This could not be happening to me, I told myself, biting my cheek to try and wake up. I felt certain it had to be a dream. The little green men I had always heard about weren’t little at all. One was walking up to us, and he was massive, he had bulging arm muscles and a wide chest. They wore nothing but loin cloths so I could see that he had tight abs.  Except for the giant green head and the big black eyes, he had a nice body. There were women, too. At least I assumed they were women based on the four large breasts sitting on each of their exposed chests. Apparently, loin cloths were the uniform of choice for aliens regardless of whether you were male or female. .

“What are you going to do to us?” I didn’t know if they spoke English, but I was willing to try to figure out what was happening. The one in front of me tilted his head and then spoke in a clicking and moaning language, but as he pushed a strange belt buckle the clicking was translated.

“Greetings, sex slaves, you are here for one purpose. You are here for our entertainment as our puppets.” I wanted to scream and cry as the crowd erupted in a fit of applause and yelling. Nothing made sense. How the hell had we ended up here?

Diana was begging the lady standing in front of her to let her go. She was speaking quietly so the rest of us couldn’t hear her, but the words traveled in the arena. We all heard her begging just for herself to be let go, and no one else. What a selfish bitch.

The clicking continued and was translated so we understood.

“Let the show begin.”

The Vampire Hunter’s Day Off

Lucara is known as the Ashen Widow; perhaps an unusual name for a vampire, but it was given to her for her pale skin color which contrasts against her black hair so boldly, and because so many men have died trying to…well, I guess to possess her.

Her beauty precedes her. I have heard the talk of her, but not so much as a vampire as of her now legendary beauty. It seems like hunters are more interested in finding her than they are in killing a vampire. I cannot necessarily separate myself from this school of thought either.

I have seen sight of Lucara, her gaze seemingly as fixed upon me as mine was on her. That night I did not see someone out to destroy, but someone who seemed wanting of something. I guess I forgot what I am by trade, as I was so affixed upon her beauty and seeming peacefulness that I forgot I was looking upon a vampire, upon the undead, as she faded into night, and I failed at my duty.

I have now tracked her to an old family manor; long since abandoned and in various stages of disrepair. The manor does, however, have a cellar, used variously as a wine cellar and even a bomb shelter before that. Such a place, cool and dark, would be a perfect lair for Lucara.

I have been wandering about the the underbelly of the manor, looking for signs of her. With such an ideal location, she had to be here, but the usual signs of a vampire habitation are not about. I let my mind wander, getting caught up in what others have said about her, my own vision of her, almost fantasizing about her, which I’ve never done before in my job, and getting a false sense of security with the absence of the signs of a vampire; she quite literally startles the hell out of me as I turn around.

Lucara stands before me in the corridor of the cellar, which runs along the length with an entrance to different rooms, just looking at me. I am affixed to her appearance; her skin is so like a porcelain doll. I run my eyes up and down on her, her standing there in a simple black gown; her eyes are so wide, staring into me like this.

She begins to move down the corridor, keeping her eyes affixed on me as she steps perfectly backward; I follow like a puppy to its owner.

Lucara, with me in tow, moves along the corridor to a wall. As she pushes onto the wall, the panel moves; I would never have seen that panel.

I follow her into a dimly lit room. The light is provided by oil lamps and is warm in its glow; she is known to be one of the few vampires who actually prefers light. Most vampires have a lair at most, a place to rest and for protection, they don’t surround themselves with mundane objects; Lucara has made herself a home with furnishings, and a bed covered with a beautiful crushed velvet, red, bedspread.

I stare her over, looking upon her head to toe. She is wearing a black nightgown; a thin, well fitting material, cinched in the front with a matching cord, providing a plunging neckline, the edges gently resting against the inner curves of her delicate breasts. Where the gown continues below the cord, a slit opens along her leg through which I can she she wears long black boots continuing up her legs, past her knees, and stopping lust below her thighs.

Her face and skin are so pale, but so beautiful. Her eyes loom wide, like pools of pure white surrounding such light blue, almost gray, pupils; inviting eyes, pulling one into them. Her hair is long, black, and straight, with a sheen about it as it slinks down her shoulders; long enough to cover her breasts.

Long black hair, long black boots, pale skin, and beautiful; if she were carrying a whip she would perfectly be my fantasy from my childhood…I was precocious child, despite my mother calling me a pervert.

She looks upon me; longingly, so it seems. I had met many vampires and they have a hollowness within their eyes, and look at you like an animal looking at its prey. Lucara is constantly breaking the rules of being a vampire, as I have come to discover, and her eyes are full, alive, and seem to be speaking a silent language; an invitation to stay.

There is a noticeable tension in the air. We both step toward each other, perhaps surprising to each of us, and we just as suddenly stop. Her eyes, opened wide, seem almost to have a look of resignation, of innocence, as she takes a first step toward me. I return the gesture and I step toward her.

We are not far from each other, but still neither of us makes any sudden moves. She has a nervousness about her, maybe even fear, and I have never seen fear in a vampire before. She is not alone in her feeling; each of us had a degree of fear of the other, and for good reason as we exist as natural enemies; each other our own prey.

She wants to make a move, and so do I; I think she, as I am, is afraid of the other, running away. Lucara again resigns herself first by slowly lifting her hands, about shoulder level, and stepping forward once again; placing us within one step of touching, and it is my turn.

I, like her, raise my hands, open like hers, and step, slowly, until the tips of our fingers come to touch. Seconds, I don’t know how many, pass as we stand here, our fingers touching, sensing the other; our eyes locked into a gaze neither of us wants to lose. Her fingers begin to move down, gently caressing, as they move, the inner skin of my fingers; a tingling sensation comes over me as I feel her gentle, so delicate touch.

Our palms press together. I don’t think either of us made such a move, it just happened; both of us draw a deep breath as I feel my skin become warm from the exhilaration of her touch, from an excitement I feel being this close to her; touching her in any way.

She slides her right hand from my palm, slowly reaching toward me; I find myself leaning to make it easier for her to reach me. Her hand comes to rest on my face; gently curling her fingers as she slides her hand down the side of my face. She is going to place her hand upon my shoulder, but then stops suddenly; I feel a nervousness in her. I realize on my shoulder is the strap, from which is slung a wooden stake across my back. I slowly move my hand onto the strap, releasing it, and letting the stake fall the the floor; I shove it back away from us with my foot.

Lucara looks at me, the best I can think at the moment, sheepishly. She moves her hand to my shoulder, and her body moves closer to mine. She gently runs her hand along my chest, sliding her fingers into my shirt, popping the buttons as she slides her hand down. More sensations run through my body as I feel her hand on the bare flesh of my chest. I want to slide off my shirt immediately, but I want more for her to do it.

She moves her hand back up my chest, moving her fingertips in a circular, caressing motion; sliding one hand within the shirt up to my shoulder and slipping the other hand into my open shirt. Her left hand moves up to my shoulder as well, then she slides her hands over my shoulders, onto my back, pulling my shirt down and off as she does this.

Lucara is close enough that I reach around her with my arms, placing my hands about her hips; slowly, gently massaging her hips with my fingertips. I pull her body, with ease, into mine. My heart beats with such intensity, our bodies in such close proximity, each of us breathing heavily; alternating between breaths, so that each of us can feel the other inhale.

Her eyes close. With a slight tilt of her head, her mouth gapes open in an expression of enjoyment; I can see her fangs as her mouth hangs open as a slight moan issues forth.

She leans her forehead upon my shoulder, sliding her hands from my back, around my waist, slipping her fingers into my waistband. She plays for a bit, gently sliding the soft tips of her fingers along my hips; caressing up and down on them, so softly, so gently. Her touch is so stimulating, alternating chills, warmth, and electricity as these feelings rush through my body; I cannot help but let out a long, low growl.

Lucara’s hands move around the front of my trousers, ever so gently toying with the button. She leans her head a bit; her eyes glance at me, a playful little grin on her face as I hear the sound of my zipper going down. Her hands move back up my pants with the flat of her fingers ever so slightly pressing along the front of my trousers; she can feel my excitement pressing back against her fingers, as she lingers with her fingers pressed against it, her eyelids close and her head leans in close to my face, as she inhales deeply, following with a low moan as she lets out her breath, my neck gently tingles from her breath.

Her hands are toying with my button again; I feel the trousers loosen as she undoes the button. She stands here, holding to my trousers, that playful grin on her face; I so want her to drop them, but she’s going to hold them and tease me. She giggles a bit; such a wonderful sound. Her hands hold to my waistband as she slides her fingers into my boxers, sliding them along the waistband. Resting my face against her forehead, we both let out low pitched growls of excitement; the trousers and boxers drop to my ankles.

Pulling my feet from my shoes, kicking my clothes behind me, she raises her head; I lower mine. We stand here, her eyes looking into mine, noses just barely inches apart, her lips parted as I can see her tongue; she glides her tongue, rubbing it against her teeth.

I move my hands down her gown, pressing gently as I slide them; brushing against her breast as I go. Her body quivers; her mouth held gently open, breath passing through it with a gently hushed vibration that tingles upon my flesh. I grasp the cord, the one thing which holds her gown together; I feel her body shaking in anticipation as her eyelids close. Her head tilts back with her mouth still frozen in that gently open, inviting, position.

I loosen the cord wrapped about her waist; holding the gown together with my hands on the loose cord, playing, as she wriggles her shoulders, as if to make it fall off. I ever so gently slide the top of the gown with my chin, nuzzling my chin and lips against the bare flesh of her shoulder; she is on her toes, body shaking as her mouth falls open more through which she pants with a rapid breathing. I move my chin about to the other side of her gown, pushing the top of the gown, exposing her bare shoulder. Her arms drop to her side as I release the cord; her gown slides to the floor.

Our naked bodies press against each, her breasts pressing into my chest, her nipples driving in hard. Her head leans back as her mouth opens wider in her excitement; fangs prominent and yet I find it exciting as it is her way of being turned on.

She holds back her innate vampire hunger; fangs still prominent as she slides her face against my shoulder, running her tongue along my skin. There is a hungry look to her eyes; a wanting desire. She lowers her head and rubs the tips of her fangs along my upper chest; I find it quite stimulating. Blood beads from the cuts she inflicts, though small they are, as she runs her tongue along the cuts, licking up the blood.

She presses her lips to the cuts on my chest, sucking upon the cuts. I can feel my eyes roll back in my head, not realizing I could get such an erotic feeling from having my blood sucked as cold and heat clash beneath my skin; and electricity surges through my lower body, lifting and pressing so hard against her.

She leans her head back, eyes closing, as she runs her tongue along her lips removing the last drop of blood resting there. Her face frozen in a moment of intense enjoyment, her mouth gently held open, inviting me in. I place my lips upon her lower lip, pressing gently down as I nibble upon that soft, full lip; feeling the breath escape from her from her body in an intensely erotic exhalation as I let it pass through my lips, inhaling as she exhales.

We alternate nibbling on each other’s lips; pressing each lip firmly between two, sucking on them, even biting teasingly. Our passions build as our hunger for each other increases; we have no fear any longer of expressing our intense desires; of wanting anything and everything the other has to give, and wanting to give everything.

The world moves about us. We are in a stationary bubble where nothing matters but this moment; at least we must have been as I don’t recall us falling onto the bed, but here we were, pressing our bodies into each other’s upon this plush velvet cover.

I look intensely into her eyes, as she does mine. Her eyes are so beautiful and telling; like reading her mind through the expressions in her eyes. I move my hand along her resting body, taking in every inch of it with my eyes as I go. Her skin is so pale, but so soft, smooth, perfect. Her breasts are firm, and yet give perfectly to the touch; and I so enjoy touching these breasts an artist would call the perfect size such as would fit into a champagne glass.

Her legs lie along to the side of me, she on her back, still wearing those boots and looking so sexy in them. Her hips sway from one side to the other, ever so gently in motion, as I softly caress my hand along her hip. With each caress, her body sways in response; feeling every sway, every movement as her body presses up against my hand as it moves. She places her hand upon mine and guides it along her body; along the side of her leg, the delicate part of her hip, and onto her breast.

Her body is so contoured, so sculpted, like a perfect statue brought to life. I taste her body as I run my lips, from her legs to her breast; taking her nipple into my mouth, nibbling, even giving her a little bite as her back arches in excitement, pressing further her nipple into my mouth.

Her body moves and sways like the waves on an ocean; left and right, up and down, as her passion builds. We nibble on each other’s lips again, building into an excitement, knowing that the moment is here as I feel her move her legs, one to each side of me; her hair so is silky and full as it presses against my hardness. I swell to be inside her, rubbing against her hair, then feeling that soft, tender, inviting flesh between her legs pressing against me; me pressing against it, pushing, so invitingly, so desirably into it.

We exhale in a rhythm, simultaneously; and then the passion hits as we each take a deep breath, gasping and drawing the air in hard. Her body moves with mine, hips rocking and swaying as I go ever so deep into her. Her back arches, easing me out of her as I drive right back in; her body movements are an exhilarating, artful display to see, a dance of passion absolutely unbridled.

Our bodies move together in an unmatched symphony; our bodies arching, moving in and out in perfect timing. I want this moment to be forever as I swell within her, her body shaking in response; her passionate gasps and moans, the motion of her hips, the wanting reach as she holds her hands toward me then places them on the bed, her palms down. We both reach our climax as dancers upon an artists canvas, arching our bodies together, her digging the back of her head and shoulders into the bed as I throw my shoulders back arching my back, flowing into her in a draining, exhilarating release.

We are frozen in the moment, perhaps for only a few seconds, but what seems like an eternity I never want to break as together we inhale so deeply as to feel each other’s breath as though it is our own.

I straddle her leg for a moment, then roll over and lay back on the bed with her at my side, our legs entwined. She just stares intently at me with those wide, beautiful eyes; that says everything as I don’t think we can say anything that we didn’t share in the moments before.

There seems to be a bit of sadness in those eyes; maybe even a bit of fear. I look into her eyes with such a longing gaze; if we had spoken she would have heard me ask her what’s wrong. Her eyes move, looking to the end of the bed where, on the floor, is the stake I usually carry on my back.

Her pleading eyes look back upon me, those big beautiful, inviting eyes, as I say to her, “It’s my day off.”

She gently lays her head upon my shoulder; I rest my head against hers.

As I lie here, my eyes catch a glimpse of, there on a peg on the wall, curled up in a circle, a whip; yes, she is perfect.


—The End–


This story is copyrighted 2010 by Dos Cleve


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