Supernatural Part 3

By | November 18, 2010

You can read the first two parts of this story here Part 1, Part 2

Bart lowered his fist and waited for Liz to answer the door. The weight on his shoulders was heavy now, taking all his will to prevent his burden showing. It was almost impossible to rise every morning, but rise he did. And by the end of each day he was barely able to disguise his true form.

The door opened inward, framing Liz. She was wearing her hair in a ponytail, a tightly fitted dress, claret, no blood-red and matching high heeled shoes. Her eyes were captivating, makeup emphasising their clear green-blue.

“You look beautiful.” Complimented Bart with a self-satisfied smile. “Good enough to eat.”

“I do hope so.” Liz purred.

She took his arm for the short walk to the car.

For some reason she had assumed he would have a Volvo. So the sight of the RX8’s indicators flashing at her when he deactivated the alarm was both unexpected and welcome. She’d always been a car-whore, from being a teenager. Never cheap, or sleeping around, but always more likely to accept an invitation from a guy with low-profile tyres and leather seats. Unfortunately the sort of guys with those cars expected payment in kind for the use of their wheels, so they didn’t last long …

Twin rotors purred into life, growling slightly as they pulled off, Bart using the whole of the engine’s range as he sped towards the motorway.

“Where are we going?” asked Liz

“To a little place I know, you’ll like it.”

Once on the motorway the speedometer never dipped below 110. The traffic seemed to melt away in front of them, police vehicles seemed otherwise engaged.

Liz was becoming impatient. She had thought she had been invited for a romantic meal, followed by who knows what? Well she knew what, a meaningless one night stand with great sex and no regrets. But the bastard was making her wait, and taking her far out of London to goodness knew where. Bastard.

She realised her hand had found its way onto his knee and decided to distract him. Maybe he’d pull over at a friendly pub, they could eat and then she’d find out how practical it was to fuck in this rather sexy Mazda. She wanted to be taken as he had in her dreams, rough and powerful, leaving her to wake wet and horny. Her hand stroked his groin causing him to shuffle in his seat as the bulge in his lap became larger.

Motorways gave way to Oxfordshire country roads, then narrow lanes. Finally he pulled up in a small layby, no more than a passing place. She could see the lights of a small cottage over the hedgerow and a small, green-painted gate to one side. He led her to the gate.

“Friends of yours?” she asked.

“We’re not going in. That’s the caretakers house, they don’t like visitors.”

The gate opened not onto the garden of the cottage as she had imagined, but a small field. The grass was rough but short and Liz could make out several dark shapes protruding from the ground like broken teeth.

The cool air began to bite into Liz’s naked legs. “And exactly where are we?”, she asked, stumbling across the soft, uneven ground in four inch heels.

“These are the Nine Ladies. They’re supposed to be witches, turned to stone.”

He stopped at the centre of the stones and turned to face her. “Not what you were expecting was it.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting.” Liz replied honestly.

Bart slid an arm around her, pulling her against him and grinding the hard bulge in his trousers against her.

“Here?” she exclaimed.

“Here”, he breathed, his hot breath enveloping her, impregnating her with a burning warmth and fiery desire. He cast off his jacket and began to remove his other clothes. She turned her back to him, “Zip?” she asked. His hand released the zipper slowly. She slipped out of her dress and turned to face him just as he pulled down his underwear and release a magnificent erection, thick and veined. It seemed to radiate heat and beckon her.

Their torsos pressed together, the only barrier between them now her bra panties and hold-ups. His strong hands slid up under her bra, pushing both cups over her nipples, allowing the full orbs to escape their lacy captors. Toying with her nipples he viewed his prize with satisfaction. She had a figure, last years had been too skinny, eager to please, but ultimately not as fulfilling as taking a shapely woman. But he had experienced so many women since …

“You have a weakness for the humans?” It was a statement.

“Yes my Lord.”

“We do not wish to punish you, they are so easy to feel pity for. We have a burden for you that will serve to educate you and ensure order up there.” His Lord loved the “Royal We”, but His Lord could also read his mind, Bart did not pity the humans his Lord was toying with Bart.

With that Bart was banished from the realm of daemons and made to walk the earth for eternity, pulling the year forward, one day, one hour, one minute, one step at a time. Always rising at the appointed hour and gaining his strength from the one event that each year gave him the means to carry on. Such a dark but equitable punishment from his Master, to carry the immense burden of the turning seasons for all time, but allowing him, once each year and once only, to indulge in his guilty pleasure. Humans.

“Are you going to use this?” asked Liz, stroking the swollen head of his cock with her red-painted fingernails.

He unhooked her bra, then she slipped off her panties, struggling to bypass her heels. The cold air prickled their skin but neither of them shivered, their unearthly passion burned bright and hot. Their naked forms almost glowed with it.

She cupped his balls in her hand as he thrust his molten tongue into her wiling mouth. The twin orbs felt heavy with seed as she gently rolled them in her palm. Her stomach was becoming wet with his precum, making her conscious of her own moist desire.

Then it happened, as in her dreams. Strong hands raised her up, nails biting into her flesh. She raised her legs and wrapped them around Bart. His phallus probed her hot, slick furrow, bulbous head spreading her wide. Her mouth opened wide, gasping, eyes rolling back, wanting to scream and cry out with joy as inch after inch of him filled her.

Then he began the slowly accelerating, undulating motion that took her body closer and closer to the ultimate, undeniable, unstoppable conclusion. She held his shoulders, not for support, his mighty forearms were more than up to the job of slamming her repeatedly onto his burning cock, but to express her wild, animal desire. Her nails sliced his flesh, drawing blood. They moved to his neck, her talons scraping into his hairline.
The wind around them grew in strength, a bitter northerly only deflected by the unearthly glow from within them. And as the icy flailing wind whipped at their skin they both came, hot semen pumping in waves from his cock, her dripping pussy contracting in waves, accepting his issue.


There was a knock at the door, the octogenarian caretaker took her time. Putting the kettle on to boil before making her way let the caller in.

“Evening Bartholemew.” She grinned.

“Hello Mary.”

“Tea?” Mary asked Liz.


Mary regarded the scratches on one of Bart’s cheeks with thinly disguised amusement. “You pick a spirited one this year.”

Liz blushed, beetroot red before asking “This Year?”