The Flayed One

Prologue: The Last Dance

I peek out, the crowd awaits. I hear them holler and laugh and chatter at one another in their drunken revelry. My thighs are wet in anticipation, for I know this is my last performance.

The crackling speaker announces me, heralds me. Barely audible over the static. With this I walk on, the sound of whooping applause and lewd gazes wash over me, their barely restrained desires obvious and only spurring me. I give a smile and wink, dressed only in make-up and my peacock feather headdress. I am not like the other strippers, I am not like that cock tease Salome, forcing my audience to wait for seven veils to fall away to reveal my treasures. I display all proudly, shame long since lost on me since I encountered him.

I begin.

I move with a grace most can only envy, my body in perfect balance and harmony. The cheers and raucous laughter die, replaced with enraptured silence as the crowd watch, mesmerised. Never have they seen anything so adept as my performance before. I can almost sense their cocks growing erect as they stare in amazed wonder, my thighs only grow more wet. The music, some tacky and mundane thing that is currently in the charts, sounds tinny over the cheap speakers. Fortunately it is not that tune which I dance to.

I can see him in this reality now, albeit only as a vague shadow. He wanders amidst the crowd, playing his pan pipes with inhuman dexterity, a magnificent tune only I can hear. The tune sets me dancing, it seems criminal not to. For him I dance, for him I reduced myself to a shameless slattern, for him I damn myself to be his eternal whore. It's his cock I long for the most. Tonight he comes to claim me at last.

The flayed one.

The Witch:

"Are you a witch or a prostitute?" I asked. I felt my rude question was justified, for the shopkeeper left little to the imagination. Book store owners are meant to look, well, bookish. Dressed in cardigans and wearing glasses and whatnot. This woman, though I grudgingly admit she was beautiful, wore a thin black lace dress that revealed nearly all, it contrasted well with her auburn hair.

She smiled at me, for some reason that made my heart skip a beat, "Was once a time when there was no difference." She sighed, "Alas, how times have changed, and the true ways forgotten." She put the book she was holding back on the shelf and came over to me, hips swaying, "I am Kilili, I am guessing you are not looking for specific literature since you have referred to my other...hobby."

"My friend Michelle said you do spells on the side, that you gave her a love potion to win over Derek and it worked. Said she can hardly walk for the amount of times he's been in her." I was deliberately crude and petulant. Like many, I had wanted to believe in the supernatural, wanted to believe in those who offered metaphysical wonders, but my experience had only let me down and made me cynical. Still, also like many, I occasionally still reach out in the hope that maybe, just maybe, this time it could be real.

If only I knew how real.

"I see. So you seek to win over a specific someone? Give me a name."

"Oh, well. There's no one in particular, never has been really. How about something to give me wealth, or something that will bring a worthy man to me?" I had not really thought through my wants properly.

"Someone worthy?" she looked me up and down in a way that made me self-conscious, "Yes, you need something a tad more subtle than your friend. How about a spirit lover to guide you in your life? To reveal the truth of this world and more?"

I shrugged, still sceptical, "Sure."

Kilili grinned, "Just a moment, I have something special for you." She went to her desk and rummaged in a glass cabinet behind it. Despite myself I grew more and more allured as I watched Kilili. There was something otherworldly about her, something that brought about a strange longing in me. It made me both attracted to her whilst at the same time repulsed. Kilili gave a satisfied sound as she found what she was after and brought it over, "This ancient fellow was located on the Isole Tremiti a few years ago. An adoring client gifted it to me for my collection. I think it will serve you well. The paper here is a translation by myself from the slate found with it."

I could not help but laugh when she held it up to me, it was a detailed onyx statue of some sort of satyr. A hairy man with horns displaying the most ridiculous erect phallus I had ever seen. If it were to scale then it would tear a woman in two. "I'm no expert but that's got to be Roman. Had to study them once, Romans were mad about cocks."

Kilili gave a musical laugh also, " The statue is indeed Roman but he is far older. His name is Marsyas. Now listen carefully, for this is important. Take this statue and put him on a dedicated altar of some form, preferably in your sleeping chambers, keep him in view of your bed. Burn some incense, sandalwood and rose, as a welcoming. Next, memorise the devotion on this paper here, every morning and evening before you sleep, meditate upon the statue and then recite it without error. He will come and guide you. Oh, but here is the most important part, absolutely no masturbating!"

I felt my cheeks flush, "What?"

"You heard me, the more aroused you are the stronger the link between you and he. It will be hard at first, but in time your psyche and body will adapt to accommodate his presence." She held the antique toward me, still smiling perversely, "You two will be most happy together, I know it."

I shook my head, "I can't afford this, besides, maybe it should be in a museum?"

"Oh I think you can." Kilili put the paper and statue aside and looked me up and down again before holding out an elegant hand, "Your underwear, give it to me."

I blushed again, "Sorry, but I'm not willing..."

"Just do as I say."

Was the bitch after my body? Or was she trying to humiliate me? I was wearing my miniskirt, I had chosen it to catch the eyes of the guys at work, mostly just to be the centre of attention. It had a habit of slipping upwards however, so walking home with no underwear would be an awkward affair. Not least so because they were now damp. Something about Kilili had set me tingling. Still, I found myself obeying, I slid my thong down, pulled it over my high heels and placed the small bit of pink fabric in Kilili's hand, feeling incredibly exposed.

Kilili beamed at me and handed me the black statue and paper, "Payment has been received. Enjoy!"

"What?" I gasped, "An ancient relic for my thong, you serious?"

"I think it criminal for a beauty like you to be wearing anything, especially underwear." The strange compliment sent a pleasant shiver through me. "Marsyas is a lucky spirit. Now off with you." She winked at me then pointed to the door, before turning away back to the bookshelf, her payment still in her hand.

As I left the store and closed the door behind me, I thought I could hear Kilili laughing wickedly.

******

It had been an awkward walk home, between carrying the not unhefty statue and stopping my skirt riding up to my waist. I was acutely aware of the odd pedestrian casting a glance my way, getting an eyeful or wondering about the statue with the huge cock that I was holding.

I was glad to get up the stairs and into the shelter of my flat. Once I set the statue down I pulled my miniskirt off and threw it across the room, promising myself I would never wear the thing again.

Tired from work and deciding to perhaps think twice before taking Michelle's advice in future, I went and ran a hot bath and gratefully eased myself into the water. I left the door to my living room open and from where I bathed I could see the obscene figure, smiling at me invitingly on the coffee table. I decided I would give it a go tonight. After enduring that slutty bookseller's attentions I wanted to know if I had stumbled on something half real.

Once out of the bath I memorised the devotion as I ate my dinner, it was not overly long. To put it bluntly it was some flowery, poetic stanza that essentially invited the satyr Marsyas to come bang me. Once confident I knew the words, I burned some jasmine incense I had to hand. Not rose or sandalwood I know but I figured it would do. I placed the statue on my bedside cabinet. To meditate upon it I closed the curtains, turned out the lights and lit a few candles, creating a mystic ambience that helped set me in the right frame of mind.

Having done a few yoga classes, I sat cross legged on the floor, controlled my breathing and focused upon the statue. I admit, gazing at the hairy figure with goats legs set me tingling somewhat, not least because of the enormous member it displayed. Once I felt settled I recited the devotion and felt... nothing. I repeated it a few times but nothing remarkable or untoward occurred. I must have sat there for a good hour before finally giving up. I was slightly annoyed, but I reasoned it had only cost me my knickers and some pride.

Weary of an unsuccessful day, I retreated to bed.

The Descent:

I woke in a dark chamber, akin to some abandoned warehouse. A ventilation fan span slowly to one side in the wall. I single bulb barely lit the vast room.

I was naked upon a table of some kind, unable to move. My legs were frozen open, as if paralysed, my hands were locked at my sides. There was no sound but I knew something was lurking in the dark corners of the space. Fear pricked me and I began to struggle, but could not will my body to move. To my horror I saw a tall figure approaching from the corner of my eye, emerging from the darkness like a predator emerging from its burrow. Clopping sounds echoed throughout, as though the stranger were wearing stilettos, or had hooves for feet.

He came into the light then, circling me until he was before my navel, my sex utterly revealed to him. I failed in my attempt to scream when I saw him fully, the statue made flesh! His face would have been handsome, if his skin did not sag as if barely clinging to his body. It made his lewd smile barely discernible. Horns sprouted from his head and he was all hair from the waist down, but what terrified me the most was his phallus was every bit as huge and erect as it was in stone. Terror engulfed me when I realised what he intended. I fought again to move with more vigour as he advanced.

I managed a feeble whimper when I felt the tip touch my labia. My traitorous body still did not move though, worse my vulva twitched in anticipation, as if it welcomed the monstrous thing. I felt his rough hands grasp my thighs.

With a grunt, he thrust.

His phallus plunged in, deep into my womb it went, then beyond, tearing through me.

******

I woke with a start.

I sat up in the darkness and fumbled for the lamp at my bedside. After several long seconds I found the switch and stung my eyes with sudden light. As I adjusted I realised I was in my bedroom, it had been a nightmare. The statue looked at me from my bedside, smiling menacingly. Groaning, I looked away and lay there.

I was acutely aware of how horny I was. Instinctively I felt my fingers explore myself lower down, then paused. I recalled the witch's instructions. Masturbation was off the table if it was to work. Had that nightmare really been something more, first contact perhaps? I found it hard to believe and yet if there was a chance it was the case I had to see more. With a frustrated sigh I pulled my hand away from my privates and looked accusingly at the statue, now restless. I kept thinking over the nightmare I had, recalling the moment Marsyas had thrust into me. I tried to remember the sensation as his cock tore through me.

Had it been painful or pleasurable?

******

Work proved to be a torment the next day.

I worked as a secretary for an accountancy firm, spending hours every day behind the same desk with the same people. I struggled to get much done, tired and still horny I spent most of the day zoning out with thoughts of the nightmare I had. The more I played it over the more I felt the urge to gaze at the statue again, admiring the satyr and his extraordinary endowment. I was in a foul mood as a result and people kept well away.

It did not help being sat across from Michelle, the one who had recommended Kilili to me. She was an incessant speaker, and when she wasn't stealthily texting him she would go on and on about what she and Derek had done last night. From what I gathered she spent most of it wrapped around his manhood. I couldn't help but wonder if it was Kilili's potion or the tight sweaters she had begun wearing.

Somehow I made it to the end of the day and I rushed home. I had dinner, bathed again and found myself meditating and uttering my devotion to the statue again, as I had that morning. I had an early night and was anxious to see what would be in my dreams that night.

I was to wake unbearably horny and disappointed, having had the same nonsensical dreams that I usually have, with Marsyas in none of them. Still I managed to hold off pleasuring myself, I recited the devotion before going to work to endure another day.

This went on for the next two or three days, with each day becoming more and more difficult for me. My aching loins were driving me mad, it was only exacerbated with Michelle droning on about what she and her new partner had got up to the previous night. I grew acutely aware of the men in the office watching me walk by when they thought I would not notice, catching glances of my rear. I began to wish one of them would just bend me over their desk and fuck me, but of course I said nothing. I had been aware of their glances before, and used it to my advantage, now I found myself wanting them to look and more. All this yet no dreams of the satyr came, but I found myself curiously addicted to meditating upon the figurine. Infuriating as it was I decided to keep going until the end of the week, if there was still no sign I would treat myself to a bottle of wine before either picking up a guy at a bar or pleasuring myself silly.

It was on the Friday when things took a strange turn. I was called into my boss' office, I closed the door. The blinds were drawn to allow for privacy and I took a seat when offered. He was not particularly handsome, but as a manager I rarely had issue with him. As I sat there I zoned out again, barely taking him in. Even as he began berating me for my attitude that week, the result of restless slumber, all I could really think of was cock. Not Marsyas' cock particularly but cock in general. Thick, twitching shafts that could pound me and bring me the relief I sorely needed. "What have you to say for yourself?" I snapped back and realised my boss awaited my reply.

Enough, I could stand it no longer. "Shut up." I snarked, then rose, keeping my eyes locked with his. I unzipped my trousers and pulled them down along with my thong, pulling them off along with my shoes into a messy heap. I was both terrified and relieved to be acting in such a way. I rounded his desk and placed myself over it, offering full view of my behind to him, "Fuck me, please just fuck me. I can't stand it."

Terrible silence for a while. Then I heard him speak quietly, "I always knew you were garbage, Julia." I heard him unzip his own trousers and felt his throbbing member press against my anus. "Even when I hired you, I knew it." I heard and felt him spit on me.

Before I could tell him to go in my other hole he thrust deep into my ass and began pounding with desperate speed, knowing we could be discovered at any moment. I was beyond caring at that point, I found myself glad to have a cock in me, even if it was anal. He slapped me and spoke again, "Utter garbage, say it."

"Yes," I moaned, "I am garbage. Whatever, just fuck me." He did just that, drilling my ass until he spasmed and ejaculated inside me.

Breathing heavily, he fell back into his chair, "We shall have another performance review on Monday, make sure you are not late."

Far from content, I reclaimed my garments and began dressing myself. I stopped as I picked up my underwear first, recalling Kilili's demand. That does it, I thought, I'm going out tonight to find a man to do me silly. I tossed my thong at my boss, "A memento." Then I got dressed and returned to my desk, giving my best performance of one who had just been disciplined.

******

"Oh fuck!" I screamed as the drunkard I brought home with me rammed my ass. I did not want it there again, I needed him in my pussy. Yet it felt so good somehow that I could not bring myself to resist. I found myself weak at the knees and willing. He jackhammered my behind and finished fast before staggering for the exit to get to his girlfriend, who had just texted him seeking his whereabouts.

Annoyed, drunk and tired I desisted from resorting to my hand and collapsed on my bed, letting myself fall into a slumber. I could always go out again tomorrow.

Love's Core:

I was in the dim warehouse again. I could sense him creeping in the shadows.

No tense silence this time however, the sound of panpipes filled the room, despite my fear I could not help but admire the tune. It filled me with a strange giddiness, the sort one sometimes feels when drinking wine. The music made me want to dance, but my body remained implacable in its position. Nonetheless I wanted to see the player of the wondrous tune, even if it was the shaggy creature. Although I knew what would follow I yearned to see his cock again for my mind was still swimming with lust.

I noticed something hanging from a hook which dangled from a chain in the ceiling. At first I thought it a cloak, the way it hanged, fur-lined, gave that impression. But as I looked more closely my giddiness at once left me.

It was his skin.

Hooked through the opening that was the mouth, the skin of the head folded back to regard me with eyeless holes, the flesh sagged so that it gave an impression of pain. A long flap of flesh reached to the floor. Marsyas emerged from the shadows then, regarding me with a cadaverous grimace. I failed to scream again as I beheld the grotesque. Wet sounds accompanied the clopping as he advanced on me, his flayed body red and shining. Even his erect cock was missing its skin. I futilely fought to move and flee again, even as my loins grew moist for what was to come.

Sticky hands seized my thighs, leaving red stains. The horned horror gave a bestial moan as he forced himself into me. My body shuddered as it struggled to take it all. As before, I felt his phallus burst through my womb and up into my innards, both pain and orgasmic relief flooded my senses.

******

We were all growing concerned with Michelle, as her friend it seemed to be left to me to do something.

I emerged from my boss's office after yet another meeting, my ass feeling pleasantly sore. I had never really been keen on anal, but in my state then there was little I wouldn't do. It was becoming a daily theme now, I go into his office at least once a day to 'help' him with his minutes, or reviews, etc. Other staff whispered how I had become the teacher's pet, if only they knew.

After the latest nightmare I decided to press on. Insane you may think but once I awoke in the safety of my room I found myself fascinated by what seemed to be happening. Much like watching a good horror movie (of which there are few). I did not sleep the rest of that night, waking up madly horny now. Instead I meditated on the statue once more, and found myself thanking him aloud for visiting me. Although the need for orgasm was intense, I assumed anal was allowed since he still visited my nightmares. As such I used that to provide me some meagre measure of relief.

Plus I found I could not stop thinking about that skinless horror. Even when I wasn't I was thinking of cock in general, watching each man that passed me and envisioning how he would look in me. Oh god I needed fucking so bad! You know you do when thoughts of a bloody goat-man impaling you on his member starts to send a thrill through you.