Many a long and lonely night I sat alone in this cold, dark room. Stone floors and stone walls. A forgotten place shrouded in nightmarish secrets. How long have I been here now? It may have been days, weeks... more? My mind is a muddled labyrinth. Who I am, who I was before this place, is a whispered conversation I cannot quite hear.
Sunlight does not touch this place, or perhaps this place exists beyond the reach of light and warmth, and the sky lightens only by fractions to signal the passing of night and day.
I cannot say how I am not weary or sick, but I have longed for neither sleep nor fire nor food in many nights. Attempts to recall the sensations from before are difficult and frustrate my senses. All of them except one.
The smell of her perfume, some of it still lingers here. A whisper of it on my sheets. My fingers. My thighs. A cloying, musky scent evoking memories of her. I cannot hide from it, from her, and I wait as though poised for her need, still and stoic as a faithful Queen's guard.
I do not want to invite her again. One more taste and I'd surely tumble into the yawning void that nips so impatiently at my heels. My ears strain against the pressing silence, my breaths as cold and silent as my heart. I resolve to stay steadfast and remain in my chamber, but a twining tendril slithers through the night, and I hear her calling out to me; a honeyed voice on the chill night air, beckoning me forward.
Her siren song stirs me, and I move without thought. Did she decide this or did I?
Along the winding halls I stumble forward, no light to guide my way in the pitch dark. I never falter from my path somehow, her melody tugging at something that slumbers within me and my steps grow urgent, a hurried march of feather-light steps.
The twists and turns I take are dizzying and fresh horrified awe at this monstrous place rattles my steely bones. I navigate the impossible architecture and my mind aches as my unpracticed dance reaches its vertiginous end.
I am almost there now, I know, without seeing.
I fear I am ruined. The end of all I am just a breath away, yet I do not slow. A throbbing pulse awakens in my chest, crawling along my icy limbs, echoing between my legs.
Over the threshold I tread, carefully but without caution. A glinting smile awaits me, and I am ensnared.
How she beckons me forth with a pale, clawed finger when my eyes see only shadows, is a question without hope of reply, yet on into the looming darkness I stumble. The smell of her arousal lies thick in the air and my own stirs in response to the call.
I see glimpses of her now. Charcoal shapes against a midnight canvas. She waits for me, elegantly draped on the ancient chair. Legs wide. Her wicked smile wider still. Her sharpened teeth pucker her full lips as they protrude and glint with violent allure. My tongue runs over my own as I war the sensuality clouding my thoughts, but the razored edges I find there serve only to sever my already frayed resolve.
I fall to the floor, the puppet's strings finally cut loose, and her laughter echoes through the expanse of this desolate place. I feel no fear, nor trepidation, only the roiling churn of my desire as her forked tongue moistens her crimson-stained mouth.
