A Slave to Lust

Chapter 1

"Oh, fuck!" Sheila exclaimed, losing her balance and falling over a table of cheap jewelry, spilling its contents all over the cobblestone streets. Her companions, equally wasted on hash, Vicodin and local wine simply laughed at their friend's clumsiness. The owner of the table was not so amused.

In addition to overturning the table and spilling all its contents onto the cobblestone, Sheila had fallen right on top of the old woman who was selling her jewelry on the street. The old woman was yelling something, but Sheila's huge boobs were right over her face, muffling foreign swear words spilling from her toothless maw. Sheila clumsily got to her feet and dusted herself off. More than a little stoned herself, she seemed none the worse for wear. She stared dumbly back at her friends and laughed along with them, not even attempting to help the elderly woman up. As if she suddenly remembered some form of manners, she turned towards her.

"Sorry. So Sorry. I must have tripped on these fucking cobblestones. Why the fuck can't this country pave these fucking things?" Sheila tried to stuff her tits back into her halter top from which they had spilled out, her manner as graceless as her fall.

The old woman was struggling to her feet, still broadcasting a litany of curses in her native tongue. Sheila's friends just stood around laughing, both at their friend's clumsiness and the mess she had made of the old woman's goods. Another young man, dressed in the same rustic manner as the older woman, rushed over to help her to her feet. They exchanged a few words in their own language, his concern for her evident by his tone, then he turned to shout at the still laughing group.

"You fucking tourists! You could have hurt my poor mother here. Watch where the fuck you are going! Go back home and leave our country in peace!" The anger in his face was clear. The old woman stood silent now, simply glaring at Sheila.

"Fuck you!" one of the young men in the group shouted, "This is no more your country than it is ours, you fucking Gypsy. All we need to do is talk to the police about you and you'll be in jail faster than you can clean up all this fucking shit you're trying to sell."

The young man stared daggers at the arrogant tourist, but restrained himself, knowing that what he had said was the truth. The old woman's stare was something entirely different. It radiated a pure evil and, once Sheila had enough awareness to notice the look, it chilled through and through. She tried to regain some composure through what little bravado she could muster.

"What are you looking at, Bitch? I'll claw your fucking eyes out!"

Her confidence bolstered by the presence of her friends, as well as a few lines of cocaine that she found to be more of an eye opener than the local coffee, she laughed right at the crone. Sheila and her friends had just gone on Spring break and choose to party in Prague this year, as opposed to the usual Daytona beach. The where really made no difference, since being wasted and rowdy were all they wanted and Europe made as good a playground as any.

"Look, it was a fucking accident, crazy lady. Get your little boy here to clean the cobwebs out of your cooch and chill out. Fuck."

Without breaking her intense stare, the old woman pointed at Sheila and muttered something in a language no one else could understand, but drew a gasp from her son, his anger suddenly forgotten. Then, in heavily accented English, she said, "There's no redemption for you. Not that any good ever comes from your kind, but now you are truly a servant of Satan. Now you are cursed and you are marked. Go and know misery."

Sheila almost released her bladder right then and there. She felt a fear more pure than she ever had before, though she couldn't exactly say why. Her friends stood, slack jawed and stunned from the venom hissing out of this previously unnoticed woman, their fear vaguely recognized, but masked under a veil of drugged stupor. One of them finally released himself from this moment that seemed horribly frozen in time and put his arm around Sheila.

"C'mon, let's get away from these crazy people. Let's get some coffee and get away from these assholes."

At a nearby cafe, they drank rich cups of espresso and managed to mostly shake off the chilling encounter, regaining some degree of their joviality. All but Sheila. It seemed that an unnamed dread had bored its way down to the pit of her stomach and reached icy tendrils up towards her heart. Even later in the day, when her friends seemed to have forgotten all about the encounter, she couldn't stop this feeling of fear, of foreboding. She dared not talk to her friends about it, she couldn't even explain this feeling to herself, so she took comfort in the form of Valium washed down with ice cold vodka.

The day passed slowly for her, and while her friends seemed to enjoy themselves, she kept looking over her shoulder, a persistent feeling of something relentless stalking her. She was relieved when, between the day and the booze and the pills, she was able to sink into unconsciousness. Even that had been a struggle, since Brad, her current fuck buddy, had wheedled his way into her hotel room, complaining about his blue balls.

"Blue?" she thought, "How can they be blue already, when I just blew him this morning?" She found his begging and whining more of a turn off than usual and managed to pacify him with a quick hand job. Despite the pall that had darkened her emotions, she found herself oddly horny and reveled at the feeling of his hard dick in her hand. She found him utterly unappealing this evening, however, and was glad when he blew his load and quickly went to sleep. She wrapped the covers around herself and attempted to do the same.

While she had some measure of success, her sleep was not sound. Strange dreams plagued her. In them, she was at home, alone. She looked at herself in her mirror. She wore only a pair of black panties, her breasts even fuller than she remembered them, nipples taut, hard, sensitive. She realized how beautiful she was, how perfect. "What man would not want to fuck me", she thought and felt a heat growing between her legs. Her hand slid down to lightly caress her clit and swollen labia.

"Sheila." A voice called out to her, from somewhere in the house, somewhere far away. A deep voice, one that she felt in the pit of her stomach and caused her to grow moist. She walked out into the hall. She had to find the voice. She seemed to walk forever through mist shrouded halls, her motions sluggish as if she were underwater. Her house had become a surreal series of twisting corridors, the voice growing incrementally closer as she wandered further into the dream. Frustration gripped her as a need grew within her. A need to find this masculine voice, a need to be touched by its owner. Her panties were damp and sticky now, her urgent lust stoking the heat she felt now raging between her legs.

She felt like she had walked for hours, but, at last, she found a large, dark room that she had never seen before. This is where the voice had led her to, but she found it disturbing that this mysterious chamber was unknown to her, even though she had grown up in this house. Looking through the open doorway, she spied the silhouette of a figure, large and muscular. The only illumination in the room was what spilled in from the corridor. It reached far enough to see the naked muscular thighs of the figure, the shadow of a huge phallus and a torso and face that was masked by the darkness. The sight filled her with a desire she had never known and her knees grew weak, lust erasing any thoughts other than being filled and used like a beast.

"I'll bring him into the light.", she thought, "What man can resist me?" She knelt down, where she stood, just inside the doorway. Two of her fingers slipped into her pussy, deep as she could reach, while the heel of her hand ground against her love button. Her other hand reached up to squeeze her own breast and pinch her already stiff nipple. She felt on the verge of bursting, orgasm just over the horizon, as her mouth opened in a soft moan.

Giggling laughter, off to her left, broke her reverie. The house faded before her eyes and she felt as if she were coming out of the dream. Another laugh to her right, followed by some derisive remark in an unfamiliar language from a third voice, shocked her eyes open. She was outside, in an alley. It was dark and she was surrounded by several grizzled, tough looking men. She looked up at them from her knees, hand frozen in her jeans. It appeared that she had dressed herself, in jeans and a hoodie, but she did have one hand deep in her crotch and another twisting her nipple roughly. Fear and lust wrestled for control of her mind, both fueled by the predicament she now found herself in. Standing directly in front of her, a huge bulge in the front of his jeans, was the son of the woman she had fallen over that morning.

"If it's any consolation to you, I will feel a little bad about what I do." he was smiling, but also wary. Still, the tent in his pants made his enthusiasm clear. "You are cursed and this is part of the ritual. Your life will become very different, very hard for you. Let me show you." He unzipped and released a stiff piece of meat, at least 8" long. The purple head seemed swollen and uncommonly huge. Sheila gazed at it as if mesmerized.

She felt ashamed, obviously overtaken by lust, in front of all these men. She wanted to stand up, straighten her clothes and walk away, but some force held her captive. Horrifyingly, her fingers continued to work themselves against her engorged labia and hard clitoris of their own volition. Her nipples tingled as if electric, feeling far too good to release her grip as she tugged at them underneath her top. She was mortified, but far too driven by arousal to care. The huge erect cock in front of her had become her universe.

"Now crawl over to me and suck my dick." The young man stood, legs apart, lewdly waving his huge rigid member in Sheila's direction. The others continued to laugh, to whisper derision in her direction, but some had pulled their erections out and were slowly stroking them.

Sheila wanted to run. To get up and walk away as fast as she could, but she couldn't tear herself away. Mystified by her lack of will, she began to crawl on her hands and knees toward this arrogant man. Her mouth watered at the impressive piece of manhood in front of her. When her face was barely an inch from thick and meaty penis, she clutched it with both her hands and stared at it in wonder. She struggled for control and for a brief second, was able to look plaintively up into the man's face and moaned, "Why is this happening to me?"

With that, she plunged the man's cock halfway into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down, coating it with a thick layer of drool. He ran his fingers through her hair and held her head firmly. Her mouth worked the length of his cock involuntarily, gasping for air at times, but determined in her obsession with sucking the cum from his balls. His eyes were slightly closed, head tipped back in a blissful state.

"Why is this happening to you? You have the curse. The curse of lust, the curse of the devil. You will want sex all the time. You will beg for it. You will become the most depraved slut you've ever known." He began to thrust his hips, pumping himself in and out of her mouth. Eyes closed now, a look of concentration on his face, he was perspiring slightly, words coming in gasps now. "Look at you. On your knees, sucking my cock in front of all these men. You would, would...ugh, ugh,... never normally do this. I can see your wetness through your jeans, your hand busy with your cunt. You're about to cum, aren't you?"

He was right. Tears streamed down her face, in utter disbelief of what she was doing, but still focused on getting the pulsing manhood to explode in her mouth. Shamed beyond anything she had previously felt, scared witless, the overwhelming urge that had taken control of her was to feel spurt after spurt of cum filling her mouth, of tasting his salty seed. She continued to frantically suction him with her mouth, cupping and gently squeezing the man's balls. Suddenly, she felt his hands grip her hair tighter and his testicles contract spasmodically. Her own orgasm gripped her and her screams would have woken have the city, had not the mouthful of cock muffled her cries. She swallowed what she could, but in her dazed state, much of his cum spilled out through her lips and ran down her chin. It was nearly a minute before she came back to earth.

Still on her knees, her face coated with slime and mascara running, she looked in horror at the semi-circle of men, erections bulging through their pants, laughing at her in her embarrassment. A few flashes of light went off that she vaguely understood as some of them took her picture, making a visual record of her shame. But still she wanted. She wanted to taste more sperm, she wanted to be filled up by all these men. The terror and desire intertwined and held her motionless before this unwanted audience.

"By the power of God, leave this place." The young man was no longer looking at her, turning and tucking his deflating cock back into his pants. "As much as the men would like to enjoy you, I want you and your stain away from here. Go back to the pigs you call your friends and may the demon remain calm until you are off our continent. Leave us, whore, and never come back." He sounded tired as he said this and never looked back at her. The rest of the men looked uncertain, clearly wanting to satisfy their needs as well, but appeared oddly fearful and eventually dispersed into the dark, taking their hard cocks with them.

She remained there, alone, on her knees, for several minutes, wishing she could leave, wishing someone would walk by and fuck her. Some degree of control finally returned to her and she staggered to her feet and wandered aimlessly through the streets of this foreign city. Confused about what had just happened, she did not question when she found herself back at the hotel she was staying at. Exhausted, she made her way back to her room and welcomed the oblivion of sleep.

She felt good the next day. Better than she felt she should, considering the debasing performance she had given the locals. As humiliated as she felt, her nipples stiffened at the thought of the previous evening, and she had to fight the urge to bring her fingers back down to her groin. Her finger traced the crust of saliva and cum that had formed on her cheeks and chin and her face reddened with shame at the remembering of the experience. Still uncertain as to what to make of it, she decided that she needed coffee before pondering the mysterious events. Showering quickly, she threw on a faded T-shirt and a pair of jeans and left her hotel room.

Her friends were in a nearby cafe, discussing their plans for the day. There was much to discuss, since they were all scheduled to leave in the afternoon. Most of the talk revolved around sharing a cab to the airport. If anyone had noticed her late night excursion, they didn't mention it. Most everyone was suffering from the effects of a mild hangover and so the mood was subdued and talk limited. In a few hours, Sheila found herself at the airport, bags checked and waiting to board her plane.

At this point, the events of last night faded from her memory, only to be vaguely recalled, as if it were a distant dream. She felt very horny and couldn't help looking around at her fellow passengers and imaging herself with them. How exciting it would have been if airport security had found something in her luggage and escorted her to a back room, where she would be alone with them. How they would ask her to remove her clothes so they could search her, never wavering their stern gazes from her quivering body. Once they had put on their latex gloves, they would order her to bend over and place her hands on the table, so they could probe her roughly, impersonally shoving their fingers deep inside her.

"Sheila!"

Sheila's eye popped open suddenly, rudely pulled from her reverie by a harsh whisper, just inches from her face. Her friend Jane was glaring at her, face close, so close. Close enough to kiss. Jane looked so sexy; how could Sheila have never noticed?

"What the fuck are you doing?", Jane asked her, clearly appalled. Sheila was still struggling to shake off the dream that had engulfed her and only reluctantly came back to reality. "Look, if you want to become another trust fund slut, you should have gotten it out of your system in Europe. Don't make a spectacle of yourself when you're with me in an airport!"

With that, Jane turned with a huff and buried her face in the magazine she and been reading. It was then that Sheila realized that she had her hand down her pants and had been languidly rubbing her own clit. As she quickly pulled it out, she caught the scent of her own arousal. Glancing quickly around, she saw a few men looking directly at her, her spectacle not lost on them, and she quickly looked away. Red-faced, she buried her face in a magazine as well.

"What was that?" she thought. "What is going on with me?"

A cold sweat broke out on her, as she struggled to figure out why she seemed to be losing control of her actions, of her feelings. She was still horny, but a sense of panic intruded on this and allowed her a level of control of both her imagination and her fingers. Still wrestling with her thoughts, she boarded the plane, quickly finding her seat and trying to stop her heart from racing. When the flight attendant came around, Sheila immediately asked for 2 vodkas and a cup of orange juice. She used this to wash down another Valium and sat back trying to concentrate enough to read the inflight magazine.

"You don't like flying, do you?" The voice came from right next to her. She turned to see who her traveling companion was, realizing that she had been so preoccupied that she hadn't even noticed who had sat down next to her. It was a man, in his 50's Sheila guessed, wearing an expensively tailored three-piece suit. His hair was short and well groomed, black at one time, but now showing streaks of silver. His face was serious, like he was used to giving orders and having those orders followed. He wore cologne that smelled of leather and exotic woods.

"There's nothing to be nervous about. I fly all the time and it really is the safest method is getting around." His voice was deep and, at this proximity, reverberated through her. She now noticed that the cabin of the plane was dimly lit and most of the passengers were sleeping. There were no flight attendants to be seen. She felt herself getting wet and realized that she was already imaging herself making out with this stranger in the bathroom on the plane.

"Ah, yeah, thanks, I know..", she stammered, trying to get her thoughts under control. "I actually fly a lot, too. No, it's not the flying, it just that,... I've got a lot on my mind right now." She felt her nipples stiffen and a wave of heat rose to her cheeks, knowing that they would be impossible to miss through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. The man seemed to be studying her thoughtfully.

"Ah, you've been cursed. By folk magic, if I'm not mistaken. Nasty stuff those curses." He made this statement in a very matter of fact manner and began to turn away.

"Wait, what did you say?" Sheila gripped his arm, disbelieving that she had actually heard him correctly and fearing that she did. "Did you say cursed?"

He looked back up. "Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm surprised I didn't notice it earlier, but you're clearly cursed." He began looking her up and down. "Yes, a curse of lust, if I'm not mistaken. Just look at your nipples. They must be as hard as little pebbles right now, probably very sensitive right now, too. Am I right?" His smile took on a lecherous appearance.