Not my first story but my first submission. It is inspired by the Hellfire Caves located under the Chilternhills in Buckinhamshire. I hope it is enjoyable.
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Her cloak dragged behind her, open to the still air of the deep caves as she climbed from the small boat that one must ride to reach Hell. The walls all around her in the tunnel were made of chalk. It always was a wonder to her how men could carve such solid walls within such a fragile substance. She did not fear the suffocating pressure of being below ground as she traveled from the feast hall deeper into the half mile caves to the temple itself. She would have her treat, her bit of flesh, her drought of blood. And if she could not have that, she would have her revenge.
She was dressed only in a draping cloak made of thin silk. The hood was held to the end of her hair line by a thin clip, her face covered in a mask made of raven feathers. Her milky skin was covered in a thin layer of fragrant oil making her skin glisten a little. Her only source of light was a torch held by the man behind her as she wound her way deeper and deeper into the darkness. The power of the place began to dance along her skin and she smiled with painted red lips.
As she reached the end of the tunnel she stood within the temple. The glow of fire and the beat of drums was a perfect symphony to the opera of their moans. The floor literally swam in flesh. Limbs in languid movement and a bare breast peeking from the side of the masculine chest above it filled her vision and she smiled to herself.