She could practically feel the look of pity Lust now gave her. “Many times we think we’re not worthy,” the woman in red said, “but in truth, we are the worthiest because we doubt ourselves. Of course, it’s hard to believe when we doubt ourselves so much. Yet to move on and allow ourselves to fall in love again, it’s imperative to look in a mirror and see how beautiful we are.”
From the cherry red folds of Lust’s dress came a gilded hand mirror. She held it before Mercy’s face. “What do you see?” she asked.
Mercy stared at her own reflection. What did she see, anyway? Dark bags beneath her eyes from all the crying she had spent those past few months. Crinkled, oily hair she never cared for now – washing it once a week, at least. The smelly blouse she probably hadn’t washed in two weeks. Most of all, however, she saw that aura of despair as it settled deep into her marrow and seeped through her clogging pores.
“I see some piece of shit named Mercy Devereux.”
Lust took back the mirror. “That’s not who I see. I see a beautiful woman who is having trouble with her healing process.”
“You know I have more problems beyond my ex, right?”
“You can confront those problems, in time. Yet my job is to kickstart your ability to feel alive again. It only has to happen once in a while, you know? Enough to keep you going until the process is fully complete.” Lust hid the mirror in the folds of her red dress. Mercy didn’t question where things disappeared. Or reappeared, for that matter. “You can’t begin your journey until you find that spark inside of you.”
Mercy snorted. “How are you going to do that? Therapy?” If she could have spit the word, she would have. Her few attempts at getting proper therapy had not been great. Enough so that she wasn’t inclined to try again anytime soon.
“Yes.” Lust held Mercy’s chin with steady fingers. “My kind of therapy.”
Before Mercy had a clue about what was happening, lips touched hers.
5
Surprise overcame poor, unsuspecting Mercy Devereux. Yet that surprise was fleeting. Probably because the sensations filling her were more surprising.
Desire. Need. Attraction. Wanton lucidity.
The warmth from Lust’s corporeal body flowed into Mercy’s through that simple kiss, awakening the parts of her that hadn’t been stimulated in months. Not since Marissa, anyway. The last time Mercy made love to a woman… no, no… it was too painful to think about. So many months ago.
She didn’t think it was possible to feel desire like that again. Yet her skin prickled. Her sensitive spots cried out, as if they had not been dormant for such a long time.
Lust clenched her hand around the back of Mercy’s neck and attempted to devour her mouth.
“W… whoa!” Mercy discovered the wherewithal to return to Earth, where one did not tolerate anything – God or not! – making such a move without consent. Mercy leaped from the bed and wrapped her arms around herself. Lust remained seated, hands hovering in the air as her face looked for Mercy’s. “What the fuck are you doing?”
The red woman cleared her throat and straightened her dress. For the first time, Mercy was compelled to look at Lust. Not only as an entity sitting on the bed, but as the embodiment of sexual, carnal desire. Oh, Mercy felt it now. It swirled in her gut and made her heart beat fast. Too fast. Mercy gazed at that cleavage spilling from the front of Lust’s dress, those impressive mounds straining against the enticing fabric of that bodice. And her waist! Cinched with a string of rubies sparkling like runway lights pointed toward the abode between her legs. Mercy wanted to place her hands there, to squeeze Lust’s body and to touch that mesmerizing hair. Oh, no. The hair. The hair framing that round face, with red lips and eyes that burst with crimson and amber.
Mercy found little to live for those days, but the energy coursing through her made one more night… viable. That? Scared the shit out of her.
“You want to have sex with me.” It dawned on Mercy, like the night she realized one of her female neighbors in her freshman college dorm had similar feelings. Those feelings. “Why?”
Lust lifted those heavy eyelids and regarded Mercy with a piercing gaze. It hit Mercy so hard that it chiseled her organs and weakened her knees. “I am the embodiment of sexual desire, after all.” Had Lust been reading Mercy’s dirty mind? “I must fuse my sin with you. I will make you a little more human again.”
“Except… you’re not like… supposed to sin!” Wasn’t that what Acedia implied when she said Mercy had been dangerously close to succumbing to darkness?
“Sinning is part of what makes you human. What makes you want to live. I’m not talking about murdering someone, Mercy. Goodness, no.” Lust held up her palms. “As for you, it’s deeper than merely reawakening your sexual desire for other women beyond your ex-girlfriend. You have to learn to control it. Not let it consume you. That’s when you become a danger to yourself and others. That’s an unforgivable sin.”
“Is that so?” Mercy balked.
“My sisters and I bring the pleasures that remind women of why they remain on this earth. Become one with us, and we will teach you to purge the darkness and harness your sinful nature for the betterment of your whole life.”
“Each of you?” Mercy crashed against the bedroom wall. Did she think she was getting away from this? Did she think she had the power to pick up her softball bat and take a swing at the goddess, of all people, attempting to make love to her? Her! Mercy Devereux, the most unassuming woman on the planet! “You’re all gonna try to fuck me, huh!”
“What do you mean try? It is completely consensual on your behalf.”
“I don’t want to!”
“Don’t you?”
Of course Mercy did. Since that kiss – the kind that could only be administered by the incarnation of carnality – Mercy wanted her growing arousal to absolutely consume her. If only she could fall into that bed and be reminded what it was like to want a woman for the sake of it. To remember what life was like before Marissa fucked everything up.
That need was so great that Mercy was under the deity’s spell when she kissed her.
She didn’t know if Lust was a real woman. Was this her true form? Could she take on the style and look of any female she chose? Did deities have forms? Those thoughts were fleeting as Mercy marred those beautiful red lips. The heat intensified between them. Mercy wrapped her arms around the goddess and basked in her flesh and fabric.
“Come, Mercy.” The once soft voice now piqued in renewed interest as Lust succumbed to her arousal. Of course she did. She was created for that purpose. “Let me fill you with sin.”
Years… years since Mercy’s back met the guest bed. Even when she and Marissa were fighting, they never slept apart for long. Now Mercy fell prostrate, that red light emitting from Lust’s aura filling the room as if Mercy were blessed by this higher power.
“I’m such a mess…” Mercy humbly said, referring to her matted hair and the dingy clothing she had slept in like a lazy champ.
Lust placed a warm hand against Mercy’s cheek. “You’re a beautiful woman. Nothing can convince me otherwise.”
Her fingers caressed the outline of Mercy’s jaw before descending to her throat. Then her chest, where her breasts were more sensitive than they had been in many months. That divine hand traveled to the hem of Mercy’s blouse and teased the skin beneath it.
These delicate touches lit more fires inside Mercy than any woman had ever achieved before. Oh, she had loved other women before Marissa. Each of those women were beautiful in their own way, and gave Mercy desire, but not like this. It was as if Lust exuded enough pheromones to turn Mercy into a raging nymphomaniac. With one touch!
How was she supposed to resist it? Could Mercy say she wanted to resist? Maybe this would have been good for her. A kiss to the throat. A nip to her breasts. A flick of the wrist between her legs. Three simple things, and she was saved.
That’s how it worked, right?
“Oh, my God.” Mercy coul
dn’t hold it back. Not when Lust pushed beneath the sweaty silk of Mercy’s breasts and discovered her breasts. “Okay. I don’t care if you’re a figment of my imagination. I mean, if you’re gonna have a sex dream, you might as well roll with it, right?”
Moans escaped Mercy’s lips as the crimson beauty pinched tender nipples and kneaded the flesh beneath her hands. Those moans hadn’t been heard in… no, Mercy couldn’t think about that. What she should think about was how good Lust’s touch felt – and how mesmerizing that scintillating glare was between them.
Mercy opened her legs.
“See? You are desirous.” Lust pulled up Mercy’s blouse. Over her chest. Her head. Her extending arms. All that was left behind was a thin camisole. To think I almost let myself die in my dirty work clothes. Mercy pulled up her camisole and exposed her breasts to Lust. “Very desirous. You have the power within you to bed any woman you want with a body like this.” Lust leaned down, those red lips coming for Mercy.
Except she didn’t kiss her. Not on the mouth. Instead, she pecked the peaks of Mercy’s breasts, tongue languishing over each nipple and making her target squirm. Such a delicate tongue! It felt like dewy rose petals, each lap carefully timed to make Mercy’s nipples harden and her neurons erupt with pleasure. On top of this, she sent Mercy a cold, hard stare full of wanton vigor. Fire shot from Mercy’s gut, straight to her fingertips and her toes. And to her mouth, which groaned in time to Lust’s strokes.
“Good girl.” The deity sat up. Did a goddess wear makeup? Because Marissa’s lipstick would have been marred after something like that. And she bought the expensive stuff. Mercy supposed a divine creature didn’t need makeup. She simply looked like that. Perfect. Desirable. Illustrious. The red of her lips and the gold dust fluttering from her eyelashes were all natural. They had to be. How else did one describe the constantly-changing perfection of a woman who didn’t actually exist? Not in a way Mercy traditionally understood. Was it really a blessing to sleep with a being born specifically for such physical love? Or was it another example of how pathetic someone like Mercy could be?
She really was dreaming this, wasn’t she?
“Like I said.” Lust crawled toward the end of the bed, one hand dragging Mercy’s pants down with her. That’s right. Mercy didn’t need those ratty things, anyway. They were good enough for her desperate corporate job. They were serviceable for sleeping in once she got home. For making love to an Avatar of Acedia? She didn’t need pants. Who the hell needed pants? “Good girl.”
Mercy swore the clothes melted off her skin. Perhaps Lust’s power was so strong that it performed such wonders. In as little as a few seconds, Mercy was nude beneath the waist. I don’t need underwear, either. Sweet.
Lust parted Mercy’s thighs and stared at the abode between them. “You have a beautiful flower and a prettier gemstone.” A smile made its way to Mercy, who could only laugh.
Seriously! Flowers! Gemstones? She had to be kidding, right? “Lady, it’s a fucking vagina.” Laughing so gaily was the balm Mercy needed to ease into her ridiculous situation.
“Do you prefer more direct words than my terminology?”
“Well, yeah, if you’re calling my pussy a damn flower with a gemstone in it.”
Mercy wondered if she had offended the spirit, but Lust’s visage glowed. “What did you call it? A pussy? Like a cat?”
“Never heard that before, huh?”
Lust ran the back of her hand along the front of Mercy’s mound, tingling everything in toe-curling ways. “Isn’t that a word for a feline?”
“Aren’t most women?”
Mercy ate her words when fingertips touched her clit. “Verily so,” Lust purred. Mercy cried out in pleasurable alarm when Lust’s fingers journeyed inside.
Just like fucking that. Who needed foreplay when a goddess was at the helm? Anything was possible!
Normally, Mercy did not appreciate being penetrated so early in lovemaking. Normally. Yet that was from the before times. Before Marissa. Before other women. Before this stunning deity stumbled into her guest bedroom and filled her with desire. Was that her, making it so easy to be penetrated? Was she so aroused that her body acquiesced to every finger filling her up inside? How many women could say they were taken by a goddess? A spirit? Lust itself? Mercy’s legs spread wider, and her throat convulsed in groans as Lust lowered her lips.
Mere mortals were not meant to take in a deity’s power like this. They were not meant to be filled with the very essence of something like lust. No, not like this. Not with a beautiful woman’s lips on their folds, tongue punching inside, imbuing them with passion and the lapping fires of ecstasy. Acolytes – even priests – once perished absorbing power such as this. Why hadn’t she perished?
No, Mercy was far from dead. She was alive.
“Fuck!” She cursed the only word that expressed the pleasure bending her knees and writhing her face into an unrecognizable groan. The tongue and lips of lust itself aroused her, diving between her folds, kissing her flesh, and licking her sweetest spots. Her clit swelled beneath the pressure of Lust’s heavy strokes and almost made her choke on the other curse words dancing in her throat.
“Doesn’t it feel good, Mercy?” Like Acedia, Lust was more than verbal. She was delightfully telepathic. How else could her words touch Mercy’s mind when her mouth was so otherwise busy? “Don’t you feel your body waking up to the things you used to love?” Lust took one of Mercy’s breasts. Her touch was electric – the moment was elastic, springing up toward the ceiling before gravity pulled Mercy’s body back to the bed. Mercy could hardly control her urges. Her hand clamped upon her other breast and matched those erotic movements, head digging into the pillow as her back arched and her loins swelled with orgasm.
When Mercy came, the sensation consumed her.
The strange thing? Mercy had plenty of orgasms before, but this was far from normal. Mercy was used to reaching climax in an explosive moment, riding it out to depleting completion. Until my body can’t take it anymore. Not now. Oh, the pleasure was there, tearing through her skin and cracking her skull, those waves of ecstasy making her stronger than before. Yet it never waned. Every second that passed left her more aroused than before. Did Lust breathe her essence into Mercy? Waking her up, up, up until she levitated off the bed and looked into the red light of lust and desire?
Mercy was a sinner. There was no doubt about it now.
Gasps escaped Mercy as she dropped her pelvis. Lust pulled away, lips glistening and eyes cloudy with arousal. A part of Mercy was sated, but only a small part. A miniscule part, really. She was now instilled with divine intervention, and a beautiful woman sat before her.
“Do you want me, Mercy?” Lust crawled across the bed, her long skirt rustling the quilt. “Do you want to take my body and do with it as you please?”
Mercy sat up, naked aside from the camisole supporting her breasts. Feral thoughts seeped into her brain as she gazed upon that cleavage plummeting into Lust’s bodice. The look Lust shot back at Mercy was likewise animalistic, as if she begged to be used to such pleasurable ends.
“I do.” Mercy didn’t recognize her own low voice. It belonged to the powerful poison of sin smoldering inside of her. “I want to make you beg for it.” Those perfect brows raised in curiosity. What would it be like to run her thumb along them, before pushing this strange woman down to the bed and hearing her scream in delight? “I want you to beg for me.”
One of the effervescent straps of Lust’s glittery dress fell off her shoulder. That curve of her body was enough to drive Mercy to feasting upon her like the wild animal still lurking within her. It never went anywhere, I guess. I thought it died. Instead, it was hibernating. Had it been dormant since before Marissa? Since the hard times began? Or was it waiting Mercy’s whole life to howl at the moon and welcome purpose back into her life?
“Then tame me, Mercy.” Lust could spend the rest of the evening prostrate on the bed, but Mercy wouldn’t touch her until she was
convinced of their mutual divinity. “Tame the lust that simmers within us and use it to your own ends.”
No one, least of all a mortal, could deny that request.
Famished. That’s how Mercy felt, thought, and acted when presented with this otherworldly goddess begging her to be taken. Mercy descended upon her, kissing those full lips and taking long strands of hair into her hands. The lust made her do it. The lust made her pull down the spirit’s bodice and inhale her breasts as if they were ambrosia. Lust cried out with a high, wanting peal as Mercy gave in to her latent nymphomania. Yet she wanted more. Mercy was famished, and she wanted more.
This woman’s body was ripe for plundering. Exploration. Those things Mercy coveted, as she claimed she would. Lust was a toy. A plaything that breathed her warmth and praised Mercy for her wanton strength. It was like every movement Mercy made was accommodated by Lust’s limbs. They moved wherever they were needed so the damned mortal could have her way with a divine being.
“Yes!” The melody sang across the room and straight into Mercy’s soul as she lifted those weightless red skirts. Good God, her thighs are so thick. And warm! It must have been a trick of malleable will, for there was no way Mercy wouldn’t have noticed them before. She had such a soft spot – no, an attraction – to thighs that made her want to drown in their depths. Lust must have known. That’s why they were here, now, ready for Mercy to devour and welcoming her hand to the wet abode they sheltered. Lust wore no undergarments. Why would she? This was her function. She was sent to Earth to fuck the life back into Mercy Devereux. She didn’t need underwear!
She was also wetter than Mercy anticipated, as if the nectar necessary to celebrate sex and other forms of carnal love flowed freely from Heaven.
Lust – the woman, and the embodiment of it – shrieked to the cosmos as Mercy became one with that shelter.
She began slowly, though. Even when the lust within her told her to pound away at it, Mercy controlled the sin. She set it aside in favor of pleasing the woman she entertained. Slipping her fingers inside of Lust was paramount. Mercy was amazed at how soft the woman felt, her walls constructed of silk and her nectar as delicious as the ambrosia of Olympus.
Lust Page 5
