The Cotterill Mare

I thought I was dreaming the first time the presence visited me, it was far too strange and undefinable an experience to have been real. I awoke in my bed in the country house to the feeling of a heavy weight pressing upon my chest. Though I looked directly at where the object should rest I could discern nothing, and I found I could not move even a finger. I don't know how long I remained there, but in the end I drifted back into the gentle darkness of sleep, and by the morning I had almost completely forgotten the sensation. That day kept me too busy to dwell on it further, having recently reached my eighteenth birthday there was much to plan for my upcoming debut; the Season was at that point only a month away.

The following night I felt again that same pressing weight, and once again I found I could not even attempt to move. I searched again for the source of the sensation, and again could find no explanation. Eventually sleep reclaimed me, but before it shrouded my senses completely I almost thought I saw a pair of disembodied eyes staring down at me.

The following morning I again dismissed the sensation as a particularly vivid dream, and went about my business as if it had never happened. That night however I was forced to adjust my outlook.

Again the weight restrained me, and this time I was certain my eyes were locked onto another's. What really affected me however, were the hands. As always I could see nothing, but I was certain I could feel them, as surely as I felt the bedsheets that enveloped me.

They were as warm as any human touch I'd ever known, and softer than most. Their touch was how I imagined a lover's must feel, a gentle caress that wound through my hair and traced the lines of my face. This forbidden pleasure sent a pleasant thrill through me, only somewhat offset by the strange feeling of their palms when they cupped my face. I can only describe them as furred.

I awoke on the third morning possessed of a nervous energy I could not describe, my excited state only slightly dampened by having to brush out a truly profound number of tangles from my hair. I struggled to maintain my decorum that day, feeling the whole time like I frantically needed to do something I didn't have the words to describe.

I was restless well into that night, and sleep was a long time in coming. When at last I did sleep the familiar sensation returned, the eyes looking into mine as the weight pressed down. I thought the weight was lessened this time, but I may just have been distracted. I not only felt but saw my bedsheets peel away, the first thing I was absolutely certain I could see.

The purpose of their removal was soon clear, now unobstructed the hands resumed their caress of my body. They began as before by stroking my face, but soon their touch became improper. The hands made me shiver as they ran up and down my arms, and though I'd never known it I felt certain this was a lover's caress. It was incredibly forward, and yet always gentle, seeking a positive response before proceeding further. It was indecent, but I couldn't help myself from giving the responses it was looking for. With the weight lessened I found I now had just enough freedom to writhe beneath it, my face burning as I realised what I was doing. I should have been ashamed of myself, letting this thing touch me wherever it pleased, but all I wanted was for it to continue stoking the strange new heat building within me.

I lay there and let it trace the curves of my body for as long as it pleased, shuddering with fear and excitement whenever its touch came especially close to my most forbidden places.

My face was flushed and my breathing heavy when it stopped, vanishing as mysteriously as it had appeared. I wanted to cry out to it, to beg it to return, but all that escaped my lips was a soft mewl.

I do not know how I fell asleep afterwards, but I woke to find my hair was a profusion of knots once more. The long time spent brushing them out gave me time to examine my feelings. I'd never felt the things it was making me feel before, and discovering them came with a similar thrill that sneaking desserts from the kitchen had as a child. Though I didn't have the words, I knew inside these were feelings I wasn't supposed to experience outside of marriage. The risk to my good standing terrified me, but not as much as the forbidden acts excited me.

I wanted desperately to tell someone, but who I could I speak too? Servants talk, and I couldn't risk an ill placed confidence damaging my reputation so close to my presentation. I had no sisters, indeed no siblings at all, and though father loved me deeply he was never a great asset when it came to matters of the heart. Not for the first time I wished dearly mother was still with us, I felt certain she would have understood. So it was I had no choice but to proceed without counsel, hoping against hope that my frantic heart would not lead me astray.

Again I slept and waited for the presence to come. When it arrived to peel my bedsheets away I was already breathing heavily. Again those strange warm hands traced their way across my unresisting body. It must have sensed my eagerness, for it grew emboldened, its touch losing its former tentativeness. It ceased to skirt around my now heaving chest, soft hands pressing firmly down upon my breasts. The warmth of their touch was oil poured upon a fire, I could no longer even contemplate suppressing my forbidden desires.

My head spun with a heady mix of sensations, chief among them the thrill of my own brazen lust. A strange musk further inflamed my passions, and a fresh cold weight between my breasts set me shivering. All the while those warm furred hands massaged me in the most indecent fashion imaginable. I cried when it left me, released from my restraints I rolled over to sob tears of frustration into my pillow. I felt I was on the edge of some great precipice, unsure how to take that last step. My hands roamed restlessly, flinching away from the wetness between my legs. My agony persisted for what felt like an eternity before exhaustion became too powerful to deny.

The morning found me quiet and wan, unable to rouse any meaningful response to the questions of my concerned maid. Father was summoned, and he gave me his reasurances the horses would be fine, and our trip into the city would not be delayed. I gathered from the details he alluded to they had been found out of their stable in the early hours, exhausted and soaked in sweat. He kissed my forehead and left me to doze fitfully, in between gazing listlessly out the window as the sun crawled its way slowly across the sky.

After interminable hours the sun completed its journey and the house staff ceased to fret over me. I shed my nightdress and lay naked on the sheets, willing the presence to come and claim me. I had ceased to care what kind of woman it made me, was willing to risk my damnation if only I would be free of this purgatory.

That familiar musk drew me out of my dreamless sleep to see those eyes shockingly bright above me. The cold weight pressed down upon my chest, lingering briefly before sliding down to my stomach. There it remained, while those warm hands appeared as I had spent all day anticipating. All over me they roamed, stoking my passion higher and higher. I felt on the verge of tears again as it rolled my nipples between unseen fingers, I couldn't bear to be left alone again. I tried to beg it not to leave, but I couldn't get any words out, the darkness swallowed all sound.

The presence answered my silent pleas, its hands moved to the one place they had not yet explored. I shuddered with fear and desire as it eased my legs apart to leave me completely exposed. My tears and hips rolled of their own accord as its fingers traced my innermost place. What they did there I didn't know, but I was suddenly aware that this was what I had been aching for, this was the was the release I craved. I could not tell you if its fingers ever entered me that night, my mind was quickly burned away by the white hot fire within.

That night I experienced a pleasure beyond anything I had ever thought was possible, an ecstasy so intense I could have mistaken it for pain. I have little memory between its first entry to my innermost place and when I woke the following morning. Mostly I remember the sensation, of finally stepping over that precipice and plunging into the fantastically forbidden pleasures beyond.

Everyone was pleased by my apparent recovery, and I dared not share the true reason for my sudden invigoration, so I spent the day playing along with whatever story they already had in mind. I nodded and murmured agreeances at the appropriate times, the unexplained overnight stripping of all the plum tree's leaves providing a convenient distraction for the attention of my father and the staff.

When night came I again draped my naked form across the bed and awaited my midnight lover. The musk was all-pervasive, and as it roused me into the midnight realm I wondered briefly how it could remain unnoticed by all but me. The eyes were above me once more, burning with an inner fire that would have set my hands in motion had the gentle weight not restrained me.

With nothing to prevent it my lover's hands began to roam over all I gladly offered it. It began with my face, trailing fingers past a mouth that yearned for the kisses of this strange thing. Its warmth traced the gentle curves of my body as that cold weight settled on my stomach. A thrill went through me when its fingers began to tease my breasts, a tingling current that went straight to my entrance. This was no longer my first time, and I could feel the wetness that came with its attention. It caressed and massaged as I silently begged it to go further.

Another thrill coursed through me when it gave me what I wanted, hands sliding down to ease my thighs open. With skill it traced my entrance, sliding smoothly around and around. I wanted to scream when it first touched one spot just above my entrance, so intense was the sensation that shot through me. It continued to return to that spot with increasing frequency, until eventually it was continuously circling it a mere hair's breadth away. The pleasure it was giving me built to a crescendo, and I opened my mouth in a silent scream as that white hot fire burned through me.

I lay there, chest heaving, for what felt like an eternity. When I regained an awareness of my surroundings I realised the presence had not left me. My thoughts whirled as the cold weight on my stomach lifted, only falling into place when the cold returned. It returned to press gently against my entrance, my whole body trembling once more at its obvious intent. It was about to destroy my last hope of life as a respectable woman, and not only was I powerless to stop it, I didn't want to.

It pressed harder, the first inch of its chilly length entering me. More followed, slowly easing its way in, allowing me long seconds to accept its intrusion. There was no twinge of pain, perhaps the cold numbed it, only that chill and a sense of fullness. At last it seemed to have come to its end, and the hardness withdrew, almost exiting entirely before sliding back in. It settled there again before resuming its movement, exiting and entering with a building rhythm. Its fingers returned to that same spot just above where it had entered me, and began to stoke the flames of my passion towards another crescendo. I let myself be lost to the sensations between my legs, my mind burning away.

When I woke the next morning I felt I was the happiest woman in the world. I had a brief moment of panic as I thought to check my sheets, but there was no sign of blood. All of that day passed in a pleasant blur as I relived the night before and anticipated the night ahead. That night I lay atop the sheets in all my glory to await my unseen lover's return.

When I next woke it was morning, and I had received no visitors. I thought perhaps I was still asleep, and this was the phantom morning of a twisted nightmare, but I was not so lucky. For the first time since its visits began my lover had not come. Doubt tried to plant its seeds, but I refused to let it take hold, surely they would be back that night.

That night too I slept alone. And the next night, and the next, and the next. Doubt put down roots and blossomed into fear. Had I done something wrong? Had it not enjoyed its nights with me? Or had it taken what it wanted and now moved on to sample fresher fare? Each night my hands moved in clumsy imitation of its touch, trying to recreate that lost bliss. I learned how to get from my body what I needed, but it was a pleasure always tainted by the memory of what I had once possessed.

A week on from its last visit I had resigned myself to a life without my midnight lover. I touched myself under my sheets and then softly cried myself to sleep, dreading waking to another empty day. I woke in the middle of the night smelling that musk, but missing that familiar weight. For the first time I could move, pulling myself up to behold the presence in my room. A proud black horse stood calm in the middle of the room, an indistinct rider upon its back. They were a dark shape that defied all attempts to discern details, but where I guessed their face must be those familiar eyes floated, burning with that strange light.

A hand reached out of the darkness, beckoning me to take it. I hesitated only a moment, the joy of knowing I had not been abandoned too great for my apprehension to compete with. I left my bed and rushed to take their hand, floating up to take a seat behind them. With my legs off one side I wrapped my arms around my lover, felt their warmth envelop me. By some hidden signal they spurred their horse onward, and it carried us off into the night.