28 – Make Me Scream ⊗⊗
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I walk over to the woman in black, but don't step onto the bridge. The chasm looks impossibly deep. Like it might cut the planet in two. But then, I'm not sure if the Underworld is a planet or something else. In any case, a brief glance makes me dizzy, and I have the urge to throw myself backward in case all that empty space sucks me in.

Clearing the tremor out of my throat, I say, "What do you want?"

"Everything," the figure dressed head to toe in black lace says.

"Um...define everything?"

She slams her staff onto the bridge making the whole span quiver beneath her and brings it back to her two-handed fighting stance. "All that you have."

These vague replies make me want to ask snarky question about if that includes my sense of humor and fear of spiders. But before I can speak, she adds some clarification, "All your possessions. Everything you carry. Everything you wear. Everything." Her voice is high and clear, cold and commanding.

I go back to Ramona. "She wants—"

"I heard. And it's not happening." 

"I'm not thrilled about it either." Going naked the rest of the way is bad enough, but it would mean giving up the notebook, and I still need it to practice the two spells that are supposed to be the only way of surviving the Sea of Nightmares. "But what choice do we have?"

"Are you daft? Everything includes the potion. Can you imagine us walking around naked without it? I'll be wolfing-out every couple of hours and pounding you into pudding. We might as well turn back and resign ourselves to mating. At least, we'd get to keep our shit."

I hadn't thought of this. I glance in both directions is enough to tell me any other bridges are too far away to see and would mean traveling at least a day, if not more, out of our way. We do not have the luxury of taking such a diversion. If only there was another way.

I think about the magic I know. Setting the woman in black on fire would probably clear our way. But since the spell is supposed to cause the fire to jump, it would also likely burn down the bridge. The Flash-Barrier would keep her staff from hitting us but wouldn't get her out of the way, and at best, would lead to a stalemate.

"Look." Ramona sounds impatient, and I can almost feel her words tugging on my arm, pulling me away. "I'm not risking my life to cross that bridge and I'm not handing over my things to some monster-want-to-be. We should go."

I snap back at her, "Just wait a sec. I'm trying to think."

*banshee*

Well, fuck you too! Damn parasite! Who are you to call me a banshee!

*bridge* *banshee* 

It occurs to me what the symbiote is trying to tell me. "Hey, Ramona. Could the woman on the bridge be a banshee?"

She walks over and takes a closer look, then comes back to me. "I never met one before, but all in black and a veil. It checks out."

"Do you know anything about them? All I know is from some stories, I vaguely remember. Their scream is a terrible weapon or something, isn't it?"

She shakes her head. "I never heard that. As far as I know, they're just weepy, moany girls that go around giving people the creeps."

"If that's all they are. Why is this one guarding the bridge?"

"She's looking to ascend and become a monster."

"What? She's standing on a bridge to become a monster. Why? How?" Then, for good measure, I add an extra, "Why?" 

She shakes her head at my ignorance. "I'll try and explain it. Monsters have power in the Underworld. At least, more than people like I do. And a shit-load more than the undead, like you. But monsters have to serve a purpose. Like guarding a bridge. They're usually born in the Underworld, but sometimes a mortal will get tapped to be one because something needs doing. And sometimes people get impatient and just start doing shit, hoping to get noticed and turned into a monster."

"Okay, so let me get this straight: we're facing some goth girl, who's willing to knock us into a canyon so she can get a job."

Ramona pinches the skin at the bridge of her eyes. In a strained voice, she says, "Something like that." At least my annoying her, keeps her from getting too horny.

"If that's all it is, maybe I can talk to her." She gives me a look as though to ask what could you possibly say? I say, "I'll try reasoning with her. Maybe strike a bargain." She makes a sweeping gesture with her hand, guiding me to the banshee and inviting me to make a fool out of myself.

I go back and step onto the bridge, my hands in clear view to show I'm not going to attack. She inches forward. "Halt!"

"Hi there. My names Sabina. I just want to talk." The bridge is the freakiest thing I've every been on. It's about two-and-a-half feet wide and sways with every movement. But I creep forward. "Look. My friend and I just want to pass. Maybe we can make a deal. What if I give you everything I have, and you let us both across?"

She slams her staff down and the bridge twangs under the impact. My heart lodges in my throat and my arms reach out and start flapping when the tremor hits me.

"Everything!" She says.

"Look, my friend has a medical condition. You wouldn't take her medicine, would you?"

Another slam and another, "Everything!"

I mutter under my breath, "You must be so much fun at parties." I shuffle forward getting closer to her, not really sure what it will accomplish. I guess I'm hoping she'll be more reasonable if she's not yelling at me from a distance. But just in case, I mentally prepare to cast a shield up at the slightest provocation. I say, "So, you want to be a monster, huh? That takes a lot of guts?"

"It does?" For the first time, she's not just barking orders and sounds normal. Innocent even.

"Sure. Not everyone would stand for hours in the middle of the wilderness waiting to confront travelers."

"Weeks," she says. "Not hours, weeks."

"Wow! That takes dedication. You must get awfully lonely out here?"

"No more lonely than before. Everybody shunned me." She sounds like she's about to start crying.

"That's so unfair. People can be so cruel." I reach out to pat her on her arm, and she immediately swings her staff back and brings it down toward me.

I retreat in pure terror, not sure if at any second my feet might step out over the side. The bridge judders beneath us. It's not meant for quick movement. It's probably not meant for more than one person at a time. I'm sure it's going to crumble beneath us. But it doesn't. I get Flash-Barrier just in time for her staff to come at me again. It bounces off of the shield, and the banshee is carried backward by the sudden reversal in momentum. 

It's a miracle, but she lands on the bridge, stretched out on her back with her feet hanging over each side. I ride out the wave her impact causes. A wind blows across the chasm and lifts up her dress, giving me a clear view of the pale legs underneath and a flash of the black lace panties covering her groin.

*eat*

The parasite's command brings me to my knees. My mouth fills with saliva. The compulsion is so strong, I barely manage to think, why?

I crawl toward the prone woman, hand over hand, until I'm between her spread legs. She's dazed but trying to push herself up onto an elbow. My head slips beneath the skirts of her dress.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she squeals.

My mouth comes down on the triangle of black lace covering her pussy.

"Eeeeeep!" she shrieks. "Get out from there."

The bridge starts swaying erratically as she tries to push herself up. I clamp onto her thighs for support and to keep her from rising. I then take lippy bites across her covered pussy, tasting her musk through the fabric.

"This isn't right. I demand you stop this instant!" All of her former confidence is gone, and this doesn't sound commanding but fearful.

My tongue rubs against her and pushes her panties into the gap between her lips. The lace is getting soaked with my saliva and her juices.

"Please stop! I meannnn-iiiit-nnnggg!" Her words are cut off with a moan. 

She seems to get into it as I continue to suck her panties. This is good because the parasite isn't going to let me stop no matter what either of us want. Its command is like a fifty-foot high neon sign in my brain. My mouth makes ridiculously lewd slurping noises. And she responds with deep sighs. Whether from pleasure or sorrow, I cannot tell.

She's not thrashing about anymore, so I release one of her thighs and use my hand to pull her panties out of the way. Her pussy is red and swollen. A neatly trimmed thatch of dark pubic hair extends above it. As I watch her nether-lips twitch, eager and desperate. I press my lips against them in a kiss and taste their heat. I add my tongue to the kiss and press through her folds and probe the tender flesh with in.

She makes a sound like, "Oh-oh-oh-ho-oooh!" Then, panting hard, she mutters, "I shouldn't let you do this. But so lonely. So lonely."

After tongue fucking her for a while, I move my attention to her clit. Circling the tip of my tongue around her hood, until she's good and teased. Begging in a barely audible voice, "Please. Please. Please."

I flick her nub and reposition myself to suck on it. Her thighs squeeze against the sides of my head and a hand presses down on it. She likes this. So, I keep it up, alternating the pressure from soft to hard and pausing briefly now and then to lick it roughly. Her pelvis begins to buck, and she pushes herself harder against my mouth with each gyration. 

There, suspended above an infinite drop, I pleasure the banshee. The bridge shudders with her movements and our deaths seem imminent, but the symbiote won't let go of my mind, and even if it did I'm not sure I would want to stop now. I have become deeply invested in this task, almost high from the thick tang of her. This is nothing like with Ramona. This is soft and tender. And even if I don't know the woman I'm being intimate with, I'm happy to be bringing some pleasure to her sad existence, knowing that it is my mouth she'll dream about for days—no, years! 

Before I finish her off I pull back. I run my lips and tongue across every molecule of her delta. I nibble on her lips and then on the hood. I grind my whole face against her, getting the ridges of my nose and cheeks into the act, and coating myself with her. Then, I dive in with a move that starts with a long deep lick up her slit and ends with a strong soul-kiss on her nub. After about a half-dozen of these, she's writhing and moaning like a woman possessed. 

When I shift back to making tight concentric circles around her clit with my tongue, I barely get twice around before she's bucking uncontrollably. Her pelvic thrusts slam into my face and dazes me. Then, she cums, and I learn what "scream like a banshee" really means.

It starts of like a row rumbling, rising in pitch and volume. A long, "Ahhhhhhhh!" releases from her and builds to fill the entire world. I clamp my hands over my ears as the sound becomes a deafening white-noise that blankets out everything else. To make matters worse, it echoes around the chasm, reverberating in a sonic pounding louder than the loudest dance club. Louder than a construction site. Her orgasm is like a bomb going off.

It takes me a while to realize she's finished. I'm cowering under her dress with my ears blocked, stunned, still hearing her long after her scream has stopped. But when I rise and extract myself from her lace skirt, I realize she's out cold.

So her scream is a bit of a weapon, but more of a weakness. It's bound to scare most enemies away, but it's not much good if it knocks her out in the process.

I wave Ramona over to us, and she races across the bridge with our stuff.

"Come on," she she says, pushing me forward. 

The banshee is still blocking the entire bridge and the only way past is to climb over her. I crawl on my belly across her body, conscious of when my breasts and groin slide over her face. When I'm on the other side, by her head, I say, "We can't leave her here. She might roll off."

"Good. We ought to toss the bitch over." Ramona says. I give her what I hope is a stern look that lets her know I won't let that happen. She answers it with a shrug. "Okay. Okay. If you want to save her, you can be the one to drag her to the other side."

Luckily, it's not a very long bridge and after a few minutes, my knees touches the dirt of solid ground. I give one more tug and pull the woman in black into my arms and safety. Ramona leaps over our prone bodies, eager to get off the bridge.

A lay the banshee out a good distance from the canyon and have the urge to see her face at least once before we go. I have some trepidation. After all, anything could be under that veil. Do I really want to learn that I just perform cunnilingus on some petulance covered hag? But curiosity wins out.

The poor girl is rather plain. Her face is wan and her features are a bit flat. She has a no cheekbones to speak of, and her lips are thin. Her eyebrows are bushy and her forehead is low. She doesn't look old, but she's not young either. Maybe mid-thirties-ish. I wouldn't call her ugly, just forgettable. I wonder if this somehow led her to become a banshee. Did no one ever make her feel special, so she started wandering the swamp alone, growing sadder and more morbid?

Ramona snaps me out of my musings and pity, by saying, "Damn! You mouth fucked her into unconsciousness. It's like slutiness is your superpower or something. Makes me wish I let you do that for me." She follows this up by a long drink from one of her flasks.

We're about to continue on our way, when Ramona hands the staff to me, "Here. Take it." I try to protest and say it's stealing, but she tells me, "I'd say you more than earned it. I'm sure if she was awake, she'd be giving you all sorts of stuff in payment for what you just did."

"I'm not a prostitute."

"Sure, Whatever you say. Take it. It could come in handy where your headed."

Reluctantly, I accept the staff. The wood is hard and cold, the color of deep mahogany. Tiny ridges are carved into it to give a better grip. It has a weight to it, but it's not heavy. I try to mimic the stance that the banshee pulled and find myself smiling. Ramona is right, it might come in handy.

I don't know what I'll face, but I do know I'm going to need all the help I can get.

 




 

The rest of the trip, to Lightning Rock is uneventful. We encounter no other people or monsters, and Ramona is able to keep herself under control with the help of her remaining potion.

The rock is hard to fathom up close. It still looks like a cube dropped from the sky, but it's as large as two city blocks and must be around forty stories tall. It's impossible to see the whole thing at once, and often just seems like a sheer cliff face. I keep expecting one of the lighting strikes to come down and hit us, but they stay contained to the top of the stone. The constant barrage of thunder makes it feel as though we're in a war zone.

"Just follow that path. The Dust Road starts on the other side," Ramona yells over the noise, pointing at a trail passing beneath two trees that slant into each other like an arch.

"Thank you," I yell back. I'm grateful for her getting me this far despite the problems we had. We hug awkwardly, and I go to kiss her, but she pulls back from my face covered in dried banshee-juices. 

I head off in the direction she indicated. When I look back, she running back the way we came, putting distance between us and giving me a chance to get clear.

I'm a little disappointed we didn't have sex one last time. But I smack the side of my head, to dislodge the feeling. God only knows if I would have escaped becoming a thrall if we'd had sex even once more. Now, whatever happens, I won't become a werewolf's mate, and I'm finally getting out of the swamp. 

The path darkens after I pass beneath the trees. The thick foliage forms a tunnel around me and it goes on farther than it appeared by Lightening Rock. I walk in near darkness for nearly an hour. My light spell works but does little more than reveal the mat of branches and leaves around and above me. 

Finally, a light shows up ahead, and a wave of warm, dry air blows against my face. I emerge into a night filled with so many starts the sky is a murky white. As far as the eye can see, sand stretches out, mostly flat except for the occasional dune curling into a wave. There are a few cobble stones at my feet, and as I keep walking, they grow in frequency until a road about six feet wide forms and snakes ahead toward the horizon.

Hey-hey, My Lovelies!

The poll wasn't up for long, but fifteen of you participated. Thank you! The winner was Sabina having sex with the gatekeeper. (Thank goodness! I'm not sure what I would have written if that one lost.) Coming in second was them having to give their clothes as a toll. That didn't happen, but I gave it a mention.  clear.png

And we're out of the swamp. I hope you don't feel like I rushed it. Sabina has at least four more Lands of the Dead to cross through (more if I have any tantalizing ideas) and I felt it was time to get on with it. The Dusty Road will hold many surprises and many adventures that are sure to challenge and pleasure our heroine.

Kisses!

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