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Epic Fantacea #25 The Heart of Luzd
Epic Fantacea #25 The Heart of Luzd
The man in black struggled with demons, personal and corporeal. He was deep underground, nearly as deep in the bowels of Fantacea as one could get. (Some would say deep in the bowels of Hell.)
Demons, contrary to popular belief, are not usually the least bit unattractive. They are, in fact, usually quite beautiful to behold, so beautiful as to often be mistaken for Angels, Seraphim, or Valkyries. And their voices are usually not the least bit repulsive, fearsome, or threatening in any way. But instead, they have voices sweeter than honey, aromatic like flowers blooming in a spring breeze, and intoxicating like the finest wine.
But it was not just these seductive, easily-confused-for-angels kind of demons that truly threatened Noriova. No, it was his inner demons, in which ever sentient being of flesh has, since the very beginning, been host to, that threatened to overwhelm him.
“No!” he screamed to the voices–the voices that were, in fact, his own.
legs…smooth…silk…breasts…body…nipple…hair…crease…curves…smell…cinnamon…erotic…scent…jasmine…feminine…pleasure…inside you…inside her … penetrating …him…you...her…many…pure…sin…great…Love…beauty is truth…just one touch…caress…
Then the music began to play from far away, but it sounded so close.
It was a lulla-bye for reason, a symphony of passion, a mixture of every sweet musical melody ever heard and yet to be discovered. Its words, deeper than that of any spoken language, something stirring a part of the soul that, perhaps, did not need any additional stirring.
Noriova was spellbound, and his blood was as close to the surface of his skin as it could be without pouring from his pores, and it screamed, with a life of its own, to be tantalized.
The music, the voices, and the physical sensation all about his body stirred a slumbering beast. Saliva ran down his chin, despite all of his civility and dignity.
He staggered forward, fleeing from his deepest inner desires, while simultaneously running to embrace them.
The flesh of the living caverns, came to life all around him; solid lumps of flesh, grunting, straining, dominating, screaming, and squealing.
He dismissed the sight of fornicating animals from his mind, trying his best to ignore humanoids mating with beasts, male and female of man and beast, and all roles imaginable.
He ran past, and tried not to think about the forms of two men and sometimes three pleasing each other in all means possible.
He did, however, steal several second looks at females pleasing each other. The more he looked, the more detailed the female-etched flesh beings became–flesh became real and full, eyes of all color formed on sweet, young faces lost in ecstatic rapture, and flowing hair of all exotic hairstyles, some pulled up and many manes of flowing, feminine silk, hair so fine that combs of ivory appeared to have been pulled through those heads of hair for hours perpetual.
The smell of perfumes and sweet edibles, and sex filled the air, teasingly entering Noriova’s nostrils, each of these scents dancing in his head and throughout the cavern.
His head was pounding, as the center of his loins throbbed, and his heart thumped in beat with an inner beast’s roar.
Whenever he dared a glance toward the feminine beauties lining the passageway walls, moving in their fornicative bliss, they looked into his eyes–emerald, fearful, and near mad–each of their faces attacking and haunting his psyche with a different, powerful look of pure raw emotion.
One brown-eyed beauty looked at him with loneliness and sadness. A blue-eyed blonde-haired vixen looked at him wit pure lust. A green-eyed beauty queen looked at him with Love and admiration.
It was the need of every woman-desiring man–the looks and passion of these pseudo-human beings–It was growing and growing, this need, this desire–burning in him, a most unquenchable fire.
He left the couples, trios, and groups behind him. Soon, forming from the fleshy substance of the cavern around him, were the same feminine goddesses that were behind him now, and many new ones. They were the most beautiful and enchanting, provocative forms of nude beauty, goddesses in their own right–some kneeling and pleading for him to join them with needy eyes and pouting faces–some pleasuring themselves furiously, looking at him with a primal need, some subtly inviting him to join them, for what would be, in simplest terms, the purest of bliss, the highest of ecstasies.
Every offer was enticing and every look from every single of them ripped away at his furiously beating heart.
Somehow, through the physical surge of feeling, and the mental numbness, a part of him was able to remind himself that none of this could be real or could be good.
Soon, the desirable figures retreated into the fleshy walls and gave up on their assault, and from the shadows and the mists came many beautiful women, dressed and undressed in all manners of splendor and eroticism.
Vampires–Vampresses? Enchantresses? Succubi?
He did know by what name to call them, he only knew that he had to resist them, and hated himself for every second that he did.
They danced, and gyrated all around him, and every so often the softest, subtle caress, strategically gliding across his chest, arms, back, or waist, threatened to tear him completely from all sanity, self-control, and restraint.
It took every ounce of his will to remember his vow of abstinence and his marriage to the knighthood. Only after his twenty-year enlistment would he earn the right to marry, and thus the right to fornicate.
It took everything he had to remember that it was his goal to escape this place and find that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.
The throng of beautiful demi-humans was thick, and he still managed to cut a path through them, and despite Loving addresses that soon became spiteful curses, he hurried on, touched, moved, and scarred by the words spoken, sung, and hissed at him.
After some time and scores of beautifully alluring female beings that were nothing less than pictures of utmost grace, he found his way past them all into a great chamber made of gold, diamonds, and all things opulent.
Sitting on a throne, on the far side of the large chamber was a man, a man who easily twelve feet tall, standing.
“Come.” boomed the giant’s voice, echoing through the hall, “Come stand before me, little Noriova. Come stand before your god.”