Topic: Suckled by the Night"Sister Mercy, I'm cold. "
The old crone stood from her rocking chair with a stern look on her face. "You wouldn't be cold if you were sleeping, child," she snapped, roughly wrapping the child's blanket around his chest and tucking it under his chin. "You're twelve years old. Start acting your age, or the Crow Maiden will come and take your soul. "
The child scoffed. "I'm not afraid of any silly fairy tale. "
"Oh, he's no fairy tale," Sister Mercy replied. "She's real. Now get to bed. If you stay awake fidgeting about that old witch, the other children will wake up, too. " With that, Sister Mercy sat back down in her rocking chair by the door, letting the darkness consume her old eyes.
Her dreams had been growing more vivid in these past few nights; she hoped this didn't mean there were restless spirits about, but she couldn't be certain of anything. She drifted into one of her favorite sequences, a fond memory from her youth. She was sitting under an apple tree in the orchard near her house, chewing on an apple and reading Jane Austen by the light of the setting sun. She tossed the core behind her, and having squandered her sunlit hours she closed the book with a snap and hurried back toward the house.
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The smells of holiday baking hung heavy in the air, and her aunt would be preparing her traditional apple pie to celebrate the end of autumn. But something happened in her dream that she did not expect. . .
First came a sharp, stabbing pain in her shoulder. She turned to grab it, feeling the warm blood seep through her fingers and down her fore arm. She tripped, landing hard on her side. As she dropped to the grass, she spied a young woman, about her age, with a knife that reflected the last rays of sunlight on its blade. Several seconds passed, and the image of the woman faded into darkness. Young Sister Mercy stood up, still unaware that she was still dreaming, and felt a second pain, this time spreading from her cheek. An unseen knife pierced her cheek and tongue, filling her throat with warm blood. She reeled from the attack, but a pair of hands caught her by the arms. Her assailant brought her close, and in the ambient light from the house she could see her face perfectly: A pale, wicked visage with flaming red eyes, a long nose, and hair the color of raven feathers.
"The Crow Maiden," mumbled Sister Mercy with great difficulty. Her speech was greatly impaired by the blade in her tongue, but the thought lingered nonetheless.
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She opened her eyes suddenly, only to see that same face leering into her poor old eyes, grinning devilishly. The Crow Maiden removed the knife and let Sister Mercy slump over in her rocking chair, while a room full of children dreamt peacefully.
The Crow Maiden stepped carefully between the rows of chilly cots, observing the children as they slept. Any one of them would make an excellent meal, but only one be necessary. She came to one in particular who looked promising. He was shivering slightly, but he was clearly dreaming. The poor dear was frigid! He would be perfect.
"Come to me now," she cooed. "Sleep, little angel. You'll feel much better when I'm through with you. " She mouthed a spell, lifting him off his bed. He hovered above the cot silently as she slipped underneath him. She released the spell and dropped him on top of her, landing with a quiet thud that made the bed groan under the extra weight. His head rested between her breasts, and his legs fell spread outside of hers. Using her feet, she parted his legs for better access.
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Then, she carefully slipped a hand around his abdomen and under the waist of his pants. He twitched slightly but she stroked his hair, and he became calm. She felt around until she met his unspoiled manhood, and wrapped her fingers around his limp shaft. "Ah, this one is ripe," she cooed, and gently began to stroke his cock. He responded quickly, and soon she was feeling his fearful heartbeat through his own chest. She released the boy's penis and repositioned herself, so that she was leaning against the wall and the boy was turned over, his erect penis throbbing between her thighs.
She was slightly aroused by this arrangement; then again, harvesting children of the church was always a thrill. She pulled him up by the sides, sliding his cock along her legs until it rested with its virgin tip grazing her unholy lips.
One thrust forward would render the entire ritual useless, but the proximity might keep him aroused long enough to expand her window of opportunity. She gently dropped the edge of her robes down, exposing her modest breasts. The child was breathing against her right nipple, and with some difficulty she managed to place it in his lips. She gently stroked his throat with her index finger, and he began to suck.
"Give me your essence," she moaned. She then leaned her bed back and closed her eyes, mouthing several more incantations. She pulled her hands down to his engorged member and began to stroke it again.
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With her other hand, she massaged his testicles, encouraging them. His sucked harder and harder, trying to fight the Crow Maiden's influence over him, but it was too late. He was trapped. She felt an orgasm brewing inside him. The ritual would be over soon.
His sucking eventually turned frantic, as his subconscious anticipated what was about to come. She opened her legs, ready to receive his spirit. After nearly five minutes of fondling, an orgasm surged through his body, and his lips went limp. He ejaculated, not semen, but a faint gaseous substance. It lingered around his member for a moment, then found itself drawn inexorably to her waiting vagina. It forced itself through the fabric of her robes and into her warm, inviting flesh. She struggled to absorb it all, and with patience she had drained most of the child's soul into herself. She rubbed his cock a few more times, milking the last dregs of his vitality from him. As the last fragment of his essence was forced out of his cock, he fell over, ice cold on her chest. She smiled wickedly and pulled him close, wishing that there were only some way to keep his penis rigid after death.
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She rubbed her sore nipple for a moment, but then gathered herself and quietly slipped off into the shadows, until the next time she would need to feed.
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