Paranormal Fantasies: A Promotional Collection of 14 Erotic Supernatural Stories

by Charles, N. S.

  I slinked my way through the dark kitchen and living room, peeking into his study and bedroom along the way. A pitch-black stillness filled the cabin, and I felt ashamed. Just because he'd left his truck here didn't mean he'd stayed too. He'd probably gotten a ride from one of his hunting buddies to drive him to the Greyhound station or something. I'd tiptoed my way back to the door out when I heard a thump.

  It came from the basement.

  I couldn't quantify exactly why, but something felt wrong. With my heart thumping all the way into my throat, I opened the basement door, just a crack. I'd never been down there. I'd never had any reason to. But at that moment, I just couldn't help myself. Before I knew it, I'd taken a step downward, and then another.

  The stairs led to a small storage room that looked normal in every way except for a thick oak door on the far wall. It sported an old-fashioned bar latch holding and locking it shut … on the outside.

  I knew then that I was in over my head. What if he was some kind of serial killer who kept his victims in his basement and slaughtered them during the full moon? What would I do then? And yet I couldn't stop myself from sliding the bar out of place and opening the door. Nothing could have stopped me from wanting to know.

  A wide unfinished basement, largely empty, lay behind the door, dimly lit by what little moonlight filtered in through the small basement windows. I fumbled for a light switch, but failed to find one. Instead, I spotted a bare bulb in the center of the room with a chain hanging down. I stepped toward it.

  A growl echoed through the tiny room. It came from behind me, and I whipped around to catch a glimpse of the source, but saw nothing. The sound of shuffling paws circled me, and this time when I spun around I managed to lock eyes with him.

  There in front of me stood the biggest and most gorgeous wolf I'd ever seen. It had thick gray fur, lean muscles, and soulful green eyes. Looking into those eyes, I understood everything.

  How stupid I had been. My poor, dear Monty was still the perfect man. It's just that he was also a werewolf.

  A werewolf that was, at that moment, snarling at me. I didn't know how much of him was the man who'd always been so kind to me, but the dominant portion of him appeared to be pure canine. In a way, I took comfort in that fact. If there were any two things that I could handle, it was my boyfriend and a dog.

  I offered my hand. He was so big, I didn't even need to crouch. He padded forward warily and gave it a sniff, then looked up at me.

  "Come on," I said, "You know this smell."

  The wolf seemed to consider this, and then pushed his muzzle into my crotch.

  I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Yeah… you know that smell too." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag of treats, enjoying the attentive perk of his ears at the sight of them. He followed it with his eyes, nose in the air. I'd never let Monty make fun of me for carrying dog biscuits in my pocket ever again, that was for sure!

  "Sit!" I said, loudly and firmly, but not angrily. I didn't want to punish or threaten him, but simply to let him to know that I was in charge. I never broke eye contact, and I didn't let his little growls threaten me.

  He didn't move at first, and I tried not to worry about what I would do if he didn't read any English.

  "Sit," I repeated in my most commanding tone.

  Finally, he sat.

  I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Somewhere in there, he still understood me. I gave him his treat, waiting until he'd finished crunching it before very, very carefully reaching out to pet his head.

  "Good boy," I said. "Good Monty." He was. He was the best boy. But that having been said, I didn't harbor any illusions about the safety of spending the night in there with him in that state, even if he was acting tame. I stood up tall and produced another biscuit. "Stay."

  I took a step backwards, and he started to stand up.

  "No. Sit."

  He growled.

  "I don't want to hear it, mister. I told you to sit."

  He sat.

  "Now stay. Stay." I shuffled backwards until I could feel the door, and then I tossed him the biscuit and made my escape, latching the door behind me. This move clearly didn't please him, because the next thing I heard was the thump of his considerable body mass up against the door, followed by a flurry of scratching an angry howl.

  "Sorry, Monty. I'll make this up to you in the morning."

  Not wanting to leave him, I wadded up my jacket to use as a pillow and tried to get some sleep. After awhile, he quieted down and we lay there, on opposite sides of that door, neither of us sleeping. I finally nodded off just before dawn, and it seemed like I had barely closed my eyes when someone was shaking me awake.

  "Mark! Mark, oh god, are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

  I blinked hazily up at the handsome naked man who stood over me. I hadn't remembered being hurt, but I seemed to have woken up in heaven. "Huh?"

  "What the hell are you— do you have any idea what you just— I could've—!" Monty was hyperventilating.

  "It's fine," I replied sleepily. "You were a good boy."

  "Mark!" he protested.

  "How do you open and close the latch, anyway?"

  "I use a credit card—damnit, Mark, this isn't funny! I could've killed you!"

  It seemed like he had no intention of letting me go back to sleep, so I regarded him seriously. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  He groaned. I had the feeling he'd been asked this question before. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hi, my name is Montgomery and I enjoy cooking, long walks on the beach, and running around naked in the woods dismembering elk'? You'd think I was crazy."

  "Good point," I said.

  He buried his face in his hands. "I'm dangerous. I'm a wild animal. I had a system, a way to keep everyone safe, and all you had to do was stay away for a few lousy days. And now…"

  "It's fine."

  "I understand if you want to leave me, but you can't tell anyone. I promise not to hurt anybody, that I haven't hurt anybody, so please…"

  "I'm telling you, it's fine." I couldn't stand seeing him like that. I wanted to pet him and soothe him and make him feel better. So I reached up and pulled one of the hands away from that gorgeous face of his, kissing the palm.

  "Mark," he practically sighed, never once looking up at me. "I still have another day of the wolf in me. I won't transform until the sun goes down, but I'm going to be crazy all day…"

  I sat up and kissed his jaw, letting his rough stubble scratch up against my face. He snarled in response. Still, I didn't stop. He needed to know that I could handle him, and I was happy to show him.

  "Good boy," I whispered, and kissed him on the lips.

  I had no idea how much he'd been holding back until he returned that kiss with savage enthusiasm, tongue prowling its way into my mouth. His arms encircled my shoulders and he crushed me to his chest.

  He'd never been like this before. He'd always been strong, and he could be goaded into taking me roughly if I insisted, but I'd never felt this level of raw urgency from him. Before I could so much as squeak in protest at my sudden inability to breathe, he'd shoved me down to the floor. He hovered over me, his breath heavy and his arousal digging into my thigh.

  "Off," I said.

  His hands tore at my shirt, ripping through buttons. His mouth moved down, nuzzling my neck right at the pulse.

  "Off," I said.

  He moved downward, hands unbuckling my jeans and lips finding my clavicle to nibble on. Suffice it to say, I liked this side of him, but I couldn't let myself be carried away with his wildness. Even if my body cried out to be rutted like his bitch, he needed to know that I wouldn't be overtaken by him. On the floor, my fingers brushed up against a stack of old newspapers, and I knew what I must do.

  I took one in hand and smacked him on the nose. "Off!" I cried. He retreated, looking ashamed, and I got up. "There's no such thing as a bad dog," I said, smacking my newspaper into my palm. "Just a bad owner. I
t's about time I stopped letting you run wild and gave you some training."

  "Train me," he agreed. "I'll be a good boy."

  "I thought so. Sit!"

  He sat back, looking up at me for confirmation. I ran my fingers through his hair. "Good boy. Now stay."

  I circled him, taking in the smooth, perfect muscles of this man who wanted nothing more than to love and to please me. He resisted the urge to watch me and I smiled, thinking that maybe he had a little discipline in him after all. I'd have to reward him for that.

  "Stroke," I said.

  He took himself in hand, one big beast holding another, and stroked himself slowly, lingering at the dripping tip. His eyes fluttered and finally shut, thick lashes resting on his chiseled cheeks. Tiny grunts escaped his throat as his hand pumped up and down on his fat cock. My own pants started to constrict at that lovely sight.

  "Stop," I told him.

  He whined in protest, hand stopping but not pulling away from his sex.

  "Off!" I ordered, brandishing my newspaper.

  With a small grumble, Monty let his hand drop to the side and turned to me for further instruction.

  "Good. Let's try something a little harder." I stopped in front of him, my already-unbuckled fly in his face. "Fetch me a bone."

  Without hesitation, he took my zipper in his teeth and pulled it down. His muscular arms curled around me, giving my firm ass a firmer squeeze before yanking down my jeans. My hard on had formed a tent in my boxers, but that didn't last long, as he pulled those down in the next motion.

  Next time, I thought, I'd make him work a little harder for his treat. I'd take my time and really relish the animalistic hunger that emanated from every inch of him. But right then, I needed it just as badly as he did, so I let him slurp me up.

  Monty was a master of the deepthroat, and he had all of me between his greedy lips before I could so much as exhale. His tongue lapped me greedily, clearly pleased by the taste. I hadn't been prepared for the intensity of it all, and I needed to steady myself against the mass of his shoulders in order to keep from being bowled over. The heat spreading from his mouth and my throbbing member rapidly overtook my body. I exploded into him, spurting right into that needy tongue, and he took it all in with gusto, sucking until he'd milked me dry.

  "G-good boy," I panted. Rather than giving in to the pleas of my limp body and collapsing, I dropped down to my knees and kissed him, savoring in my own salty taste on his lips.

  Sleepy and sated, I could have done that forever, but he whined into my lips, reminding me of his own need. I realized that he'd been trembling from holding himself back, and I thought that he'd had enough. He'd more than earned another treat.

  "Lay down," I said, and he did, but that huge cock of his stood up tall. Maybe it was just my lust-fueled imagination, but it seemed even bigger than usual, and had something of a red tinge to it. I ran my fingers across the shaft, driving my wild man wilder, and then took it into my mouth. I didn't suck for long, though. I'd grown high on the power of bossing around such a powerful man, and I didn't want to let him come just yet. I decided to get my clicker and pick on him just a bit more.

  "Stay." Without getting up, I turned around and leaned over to dig through my jacket pockets. For just a second, and without any real awareness of my actions, I'd gotten down onto all fours.

  Two phrases come to mind as I tell this part of the story. One: Hubris is the folly of man, and two: Don't turn your back on a horny werewolf.

  Monty might have seemed docile mere moments ago, but with the way I gave him an eyeful of my wiggling bottom… well, I might as well have dangled a steak in front of him. He was on me in a flash, a tongue (which, just like his cock, I could have sworn hadn't been that long before) burying itself into my ass. I gasped, shuddering with an unexpected wave of yearning. Monty had always been talented with his tongue, but this was on a whole new level. I debated stopping him, trying to take control of the situation, but who was I to come between a werewolf and the full moon?

  And just as I really started to get into the waxing and waning of his skilled tongue, he withdrew. I whimpered in protest. At that moment, I'd forgotten about training him. I wanted to be his bitch, mounted and fucked until I yowled in pleasure. So I said nothing, simply vocalized my need in cries and whimpers.

  Wasting no time, he crawled up on me, his thick red rod finding its way straight to my horny hole. Nor did he take his time entering me, slamming into my hips in one rough thrust. The saliva did its job well enough, but Monty had never taken me with so little lube or so much force before, and I cried out in surprise.

  Isn't that funny? He's the werewolf, but without a doubt, I was the one howling.

  He grunted in time with each pounding he gave my rear, and eventually I realized he was saying something, practically chanting under his breath.

  "Bitch, bitch, you're my bitch."

  I couldn't exactly argue with that in my position, but hearing it vocalized really snapped me out of my lusty haze. I couldn't let him think he had me totally dominated, or I would never tame my wolf. "Harder!" I demanded.

  Okay, maybe that's not the best thing to demand when you're trying not to be someone's bitch. But I'm giving myself points for effort here.

  Whether following my orders or his instincts, he obliged my request, monster member filling me all the way up as his hands clawed at my hips. I took it all in and wanted more.

  "S-stroke!"

  He curled over me and dropped one hand down to my lonely cock, giving it a little squeeze before jerking it roughly. Between that and the abuse I'd been taking from behind, the building pleasure became more than I could even dream of resisting.

  "Bitch…"

  "Yeah – fine, I'm your bitch," I panted, loving every second of it. "I'm your—"

  I couldn't even finish. I came right then and there, spraying his floor and hand with my hot jizz in high-pressure spurts. From that point on I just rode the wave, letting my lean lycanthrope have his way with me until he, too, came, drenching my insides with his canine seed and bruising my thighs with his digging hands.

  Afterward we collapsed into a heap on the floor, him still inside of me. He wrapped his arms around me and nestled his face in my hair. The beast was at rest, at least for now, and after a long night, so was I. We fell asleep just like that, totally spent.

  * * *

  We woke up around noon, partook of Monty's world-famous pancakes (at least, they ought to be world-famous), and talked quietly about nothing, neither of us mentioning last night. Finally, he sat down across the table, looked at me so intensely I felt a little self-conscious about how much bacon I'd stuffed into my mouth, and spoke.

  "Every month, for a few days on either side of the full moon, I completely lose it. I can't keep my head on straight during the day, and I turn into a monster at night. That's the long and short of it. A lot of weres have gone urban these days, so I don't have much of a pack to run with right now, and I was worried that I'd do… I don't know, something. Hunt you down, hurt somebody. That was why I had to isolate myself. I'm sorry I lied. I'll still totally understand if you want to—"

  "I want to train you," I interrupted just as soon as I'd swallowed my mouthful of hot pork. "You're afraid of hurting people, but you didn't hurt me."

  "That's different," he protested. "You're my…" He stopped himself, blushing.

  "Your mate?"

  He nodded. Nobody in the world could ever look as cute as my Monty did at that moment.

  "I love you too," I said. "And I'm going to tame you."

  Defiance flashed in those deep green eyes, and Monty abandoned his seat, circling around to my side of the table to breathe in my ear. "You didn't tame me this morning."

  "It takes more than one session," I replied, unmoved.

  He began to nibble.

  "Sit," I said.

  He sat.

  I grinned. We had a long day ahead of us before the sun went down, and this time, I intended to give him the
training of his life.

  END :)

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  Excerpt:

  Dee found herself staring down at a huge cock hanging flaccid from beneath her own fastidiously-trimmed, five-pointed-star-shaped bush. Her jaw dropped.

  "The deed is done," said Nestir, and turned to leave for parts unknown and unknowable. Before it could exit this mortal realm, however, it received a flying ottoman to the back of the head.

  "Oh no you don't!" Dee shouted, leaping to her feet. "What is the meaning of.. of this?"

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  "There are stranger things this world than a beautiful dick. I have told you the truth. He sold this to me. Would you prefer it go to waste?"

  The demon had an apathetic look on its face, but Dee knew better. Her kitties made the same face when they fell off the sofa. She dropped it, grunting with irritation. "At any rate, I didn't ask to have it attached!"

  "Don't knock it before you've jerked it," said Nestir.

  Other titles by Victorie Lazer include:

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