Converted from a PDF so the formatting might be a little jamk.

Moonlight Invitations 

Then

When there came a rapping at the door of Sir Niles’ chamber, he was half surrendered to the meaningful repose of slumber. The door shivered in its frame with no great force and the echo of knuckles across its thick wood was only so loud as to attract his particular attention. 

 The chamber, being his own only in the name of hospitality, had fallen into darkness and there it remained save the pale silver of a moon drawn tight to the edges of its full splendor. Its reach was a light cast to guide him. 

 Again the sound of a determined yet light hand struck against his ears, and the young knight found himself both on his feet and armed for bear. He knew not why his hand had found his sword, but some greater sense of danger, some finely honed warrior’s instinct acted without his call. 

 “Who raps at this hour upon this door, speak your deeds lest you find malice awaiting in chambers so uninvited.” He did not shout, save past the force to pierce the door, and his answer came first with a daunting chuckle. 

 “Good Knight, who are you to deny me entrance unto mine own chambers? Who are you to challenge the queen of the castle at this hour or any other?” The music of her words was like a mist across the luminous glow from the moon so afar. 

 He did not know the tone of this woman’s voice, for he’d supped with the lady of the castle who thought she was noble was not a queen at all, and she was not so alluring a speaker nor was her voice so full and vibrant. 

 “Would you be unescorted at this hour? Such would be an ill mark on your name and virtue regardless of whose house you may claim. Nor would I have your name be besmirched by mine own in a meeting such as this.” Tales had filled these lands for years beyond count of the ethereal and the ghostly, of nefarious forces that worked their dark will against the unsuspecting, and having seen much unspeakable wickedness in his years of travel, he trusted well his instincts. 

 “I would not be so underserved in honor or in practice if such a knight as yourself, so brave indeed, would open my own chambers’ door and escort me out into the evening for a stroll in these quiet and moonstruck yards.” 

 Her voice bore a lyrical weight though her words had no verse, and as she spoke, the musical mist seemed to grow thicker. Not with magic or some wicked enchantment though, Sir Niles was well schooled in fending himself from such deliberate sorcery, no it was nothing so dire, but something impossibly more dangerous. 

 It was the mist and music of simple charm and unabashed charisma brought to full force in the voice of one skilled in her own strengths and senses. 

 The knight, who’d needed a keen ear to battle ambush and closer dangers yet unseen, heard no other sound, and doubted that even the most skilled of footpads could be lurking behind that door.  “You shall be bested soon if you are not disposed to speaking the truth madam. I doubt well your claim to rights and royalty, nor my prowess to best a deceiver.” 

 With that, tiring of this small intrigue, he opened his chamber door and stood in his night dress, sword

at the ready. And what his eyes did befall was indeed not the lady of the manor, at least not the one with whose company he’d supped. 

 “Now you are to have my secrets and my truths in full good knight. For I am both not who you would think, but wholly who I claim to be. In the hours of dawn through dusk my descendants sit on this throne diminished though it may be, but in the time of darkness and the domain of the stars and the moon I do rule these hall eternal. Look upon me, and see what legends have borne and what eyes would doubt and rejoice in.”  What wicked light there was did indeed bathe the visage before him. 

 Her hair was rich and red as blood, its luster like crimson spilled fresh on the frozen snow, and her lips were pale and pink, as though their thirst for a kiss was in that pale hue. Her skin was white as alabaster, as flawless and smooth as freshly blown glass, and her eyes were burnt with a pale green light that seemed as cold as frost and bright as the pre-dawn sky. 

 A cloak of black adorned her shoulders and hid the whole of her form, its fur lined hood was down, and covered in the thick cascade of her red ringlets. 

There was something of the women she claimed was her descendent that he saw in the woman before him. He saw the opposite was true as well, but it was a diminished thing, quieted and muted and without the flush of pure and elegant beauty that he saw now in the silver moonlight. 

 It was as though he’d had taste of wine made wholly less by too much water, and now his eyes did drink of it straight from the cask. “Wicked things oft walk in finer guises, I bid you flee my door as I do rightly invoke the protection of guest-rites and declare to you now, dare you try me with force, subtle or crass, I will strike you from these halls and from this realm as rightly I should.” 

 She did not blink and her steadfast gaze pierced deep into the heart of his eyes, he felt no fear, neither from himself nor from her, and readily he met her seeing challenge in that unrelenting look. He saw as well that while her eyes were a beauty akin to all her form and features there was no great mystery there, no compelling sparkle of light to lead him, and he knew not what that gaze had hoped to accomplish.  ‘Then tell me knight, why do you not? Would you be so crass yourself as to boast of violence to the mistress of this house, and refuse to bring weight to those words? Would you now step through this gate and do as you say? Or would you not join me, as I asked of you, for a simple walk under the night sky?”  “What charms you may wield and the brunt of your gaze has not moved me to bend or abide your will. You’ve no power here.” He’d heard tales of the gaze of some nefarious creatures of the night and their ability to beguile and enthrall, but he knew that their power could not pass a threshold uninvited.  “I’ve no greater power than any other woman to compel, save perhaps my beauty, but I do have a chill…” her cloak fell from her shoulders and revealed that she was not garbed in any fashion at all underneath it, “and if you would not walk with me, then perhaps you can invite me in and warm me? Perhaps under your covers?” 

 His eyes betrayed the gasp he kept behind his teeth, and her porcelain frame was in no proportion he had seen in any house be it of ill repute or of the finest company. Her waist was narrow and muscular, as though shaped by labors of pure vanity, her legs were long and bare, no boot nor sandal adorned her feet, and her legs too were sculpted of long fine muscle. So too were her bare arms muscled in such a fashion, enhanced by the serpentine shapes that adorned them, their blue lines tattooed into her flesh that seemed to dance with motion in the moon’s silver glow.

 A small well groomed tuft of red sat above her womanhood, and Niles’ eye did not resist the simple urge to look down, and then up to the imposing sight of her breasts; they were two white and lovely globes of flesh, like moons themselves in their roundness and their fullness. “What witchcraft is this? Or would you claim only the spells of the fairer sex?” 

 He’d found himself trying to make light of the imposing beauty before him, and his will called in simple sense to close the door and look no longer on such a beguiling sight, but the challenge of her dark and wicked ways called to his gallantry and he would not abide leaving her to work he wiles on another.  No, he would force her to action and in good justice bring this fiend low. 

 “Witchcraft it is indeed, but as you’ve your arms and armor, I simply use what I must for the form most suiting my needs. You do me honor by your admiration, and yet you still misunderstand my power and my purpose. Would you not wish to share the bounty of my sorcery, would you not lust for me if you saw me not as some wily foe?” 

 She cupper her breasts, and the eerie luminescence of her skin glowed warm as thought a translucent silver fire danced around her. “I cannot enspell any, be it man or woman, thought I know spells of love and lust surely, but as a witch and only as such could I cast them, and you know well you’ve warded yourself with good sense against these charms. No, you are safe in your chamber, but would that I tempt you to the sweetest taste of my beauty. You need only gaze upon me, and mayhaps I will beckon you to invite me in, or join me without, and failing that my power will wane and never will my visage cross your eyes again, so bound by the rules of power am I.” 

 Niles made finally, knowing that he could win this battle with a greater ease than he’d guess, to close the door, but ever did his eyes linger on her fingers as they danced about the ripe and full flesh of her massive breasts, and much as a snake be-stills its prey, her breasts became the unblinking eyes of the serpentine slither of her tattooed arms. 

 But he was not weak of character or courage, and his carnal desires were no greater master over him than any other foe when it came to matters of determination. All that kept the door from closing was her curt chuckle, which was as much a musical and joyous laugh as it was a warning. 

 “You’d do well to heed my words as your eyes long to heed my shape good knight. Turn away from me now, before the moon is at its truest height, and tomorrow I will return to you, and night after night you will witness my temptation be it in flesh or in dream, and you know as well as I that weakness has a way of finding merciless opportunity. So trust your wisdom and look upon me now.” 

 With that, Sir Niles did abide her and kept his gaze and the door in their same places. But as he stared upon her, watching those breasts with more than a passing interest, her hand slid down between her legs, and her fingers started a new dance of their own. 

 “If you fear your path to decency and hospitality will be from a road of lust and temptation, you need only look into my eyes. You may gaze brave warrior into the green depths and see that though my soul may be far removed from yours in form and life, my desire is no different. Gaze deep into their green depths and see what lies in the heart of a queen.” 

 “I know well and respect the laws that govern your kind your majesty, “ speaking her honorific was intended to be sarcasm but her eyes were not cruel, and so his voice found an unexpected kindness and flattery.

Her eyes were not savage or hungry as the eyes of foes he’d faced who bore him ill will both openly and in secret, and there was a succor in his gaze resting there. It was a calm in the storm of her unrepentant and irrepressible sexuality. 

As he stared into those eyes he saw a sight he’d seen many a time before, the rapture of a woman’s lust reaching its peak, and her moan of ecstasy ignited in him a purely physical response no man’s will could subdue no matter the force of his character. 

“It seems I know how to render you speechless as well. Tell me,” her fingers, rose from between her legs and came to rest on that invisible plane that separated the chamber from the hall, “would you care to taste the fruits of your labors. It does so excite me when I face a man or a woman who would choose to resist my temptations and callings.” 

Her scent, honey sweet and tender but lacking the ethereal warmth of true passion, wafted into the chamber and struck him with a near dizzying effect. 

“You ask me a small favor that I rebuke, now you offer something much greater and you expect me to what?” He’d found his laughter now, but his body had found its own hunger as he watched her lick her own fingers clean. He felt a flash of heat that started to prevail between his legs, and he watched as she seemed to dance for him in a serpentine manner. 

“I would only ask you to watch and listen, and when you refuse a queen’s request to dine you risk offending her majesty. But your eyes tell me you meant no insult, now look upon me in what time remains. You’ve been awake ever so long and the light of the moon is growing ever dim.” 

She cupped her breasts again. 

“Even in the soft sleepy light of the gentle moon, silver soft like slumbers coming embrace, your attention is given fully to me, to my words less so now than the sound of my voice, and heavy eyes finds themselves blinking in need of repose. Tell me good knight, would sleep not be welcome, in a bed so warm, to brush against my soft skin?” 

Sir Niles blinked and found that the hour had caught up to him, but he knew too that his feelings followed the shape of her words and he shook his head. “Your cunning is equal to your beauty, I concede this.” She toyed with her nipples and his eyes, ever keen to watch the movements of a foe, had become as trained on those breasts as they were the hands that massaged them. “You are well mannered, more well mannered than a man who would wield such a heavy blade against one so fair, holding it still when there was no cause, not when the arm that holds it is feeling the weight ever pressing, ever growing, tired and heavy now, like eyes that wish they could close in slumber, or succumb to the softness before them. Heavy arms weight heavy on your arm in this late hour, as do other stiff and rigid things.” 

The moonlight danced across her skin, her eyes glowed with an invitation to indulge all the whims that teased the edges of his desires, and the tip of his sword dropped down to the ground. He felt its weight pulling him forward and he took a slow step forward, not to cross the threshold but to keep his balance. 

In that moment though, the tip of his full and swollen manhood pierced the barrier, and he saw her eyes glow with a light he could not escape. A gentle hand caressed Sir Niles’ cheek, and a kiss consumed his world. He did not fight it at first, but slowly he found his senses and pushed her away. But he had accepted her invitation and the kiss had done its work…

Now

“While tales of romantic knights traveling the countryside and fending off bandits and warlords have long been proven to be monarchist propaganda, hence the early proliferation of Arthurian legends, this is not to say there were no heroes…” 

The tour guide went on about the history of inherited heroism in oral tradition, but Nick had found himself wandering over to the display and looking more than listening. A black scabbard with a series of ornate golden veins wrapping around it, and its sword with its blade polished bright as the sun were prominently displayed over some other artifacts. 

“The story, “ a woman’s voice floated into his ear, “of the sword is that it belonged to Sir Niles the Pious, but one night in this very castle the man disappeared never to be seen again. In some of the more obscure texts of the age, he’s said to have fought ogres and giants and trolls, but met his end when he was eaten by a vampire.” 

Nick laughed as he heard the laughter in the woman’s voice, “What, no dragons?” 

He knew manners dictated that he should turn around, but the sword was beautiful. It was the physical embodiment of everything he’d ever been interested in; it was the pinnacle of his academic pursuits, it and other weapons like it. 

“ No, “ the woman laughed too, “and no vampires either most likely.” 

Nick was still staring at the sword when he nodded, “Not at least the kind we think of right? I mean, vampire legends didn’t really make their way to Western Europe until Stoker right?” “Sort of.” Her voice was lively, energetic and engaged. “Most legends of vampirism come from blood borne diseases, or sickness of the blood, so there are variations of vampirism everywhere, but the classic pop culture vampire is newer than the revolving pistol.” 

He nodded again. 

“Do you want to touch it?” 

Nick turned around, “I’m sorry.” 

The woman he’d been speaking with was middle aged, with pale red hair and a gentle smile. Her accent was much lighter than the tour guide’s and it sounded almost like an American actor hinting at British ancestry. Her green eyes were also pale, and she had a clear lightly tanned complexion. 

“I own it after all, here.” She stepped forward, reached across the velvet rope and took the sword by the hilt and presented it to him. 

Nick’s smile as his hand closed over the faded leather was of pure joy. 

The others in the tour were staring, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Lady Hana Coalwood, and she has been kind and generous enough to allow us into her ancestral home.” 

There was some polite clapping, and she waved out to the group, “Oh please, don’t mind me, I’ll be about to answer any of your questions shortly, and we are thrilled to have all of you here to stay with us this week.” 

Nick’s study abroad program included a week in the castle and a fair amount of pre-planned touring of the surrounding town. 

As the group moved on, Nick relinquished the weapon with a bashful smile. 

“I suppose you’d best catch up with your classmates. But, you do know, by and large we’ve lost most of our knowledge of what real sword combat entails don’t you? Most of what we know truly only comes from

manuals and the rare lineage of instruction that, like all things, is diluted over time. 

He nodded again. Nick had fenced, studied eastern marshal arts, what western marshal arts he could find, and recreationally studied swordsmanship, all on top of playing a lot of fantasy role playing games both table top and live action, so what she was saying wasn’t necessarily new to him, but it was still interesting. 

“Well, perhaps we can discuss this more in the evening, I’d hate to interfere with your studies.” And with that, she walked with him back to the group then went her own way. 

There was a charisma to the woman that was tangible, a powerful aura he’d only seen with some of the colligate athletes he knew, and some of the more successful people he’d encountered in his life. But what did he expect from a woman whose ancestry reached back to pre-Norman conquest. 

The tour continued on, and it was all a dream come true for him, and it finally came to an end back in the castle’s main hall, where the Lady Coalwood did in fact answer a slew of questions. Nick’s program had spent the last few weeks in London after coming over from the States, and as fun as the city had been, the countryside was what really appealed to him. Now, after the tour, they were in their rooms and getting ready for the evenings activities. 

The castle had been consistently renovated with the passage of time, so much so that very little of the interior, if any of it, could be traced back to its construction. It had been the decision of the family, with the march of time, to preserve in practicality what was worth saving, and to find a way to monetize their history by turning it into something of a hotel and a museum. 

It had become, due to the studious accounting and preservation of all manner of artifacts, a magnet destination for academia, and with its accommodations it became a natural destination for college level study abroad programs. 

 The evening festivities came and went and were made up of a meal and more socializing, and demonstrations of some traditional forms of dance, and traditional; folk music. It was pleasant enough, but Nick had found himself wandering away back into the castle’s other halls, then back to the display rooms.  “It’s all a bit much isn’t it?” The voice sounded familiar, but richer and sweeter, like music with no tune, and seemed to come into the display chamber with a beam of bright moonlight. 

 Nick turned instantly this time to look at the source of the words. 

 She almost looked like Hana, but in the sliver gleam of the moon, she looked younger and more vibrant. Every color from her blood red curls, to her alabaster white skin stood out, and her green eyes were bright in the relative darkness. 

 “I’m sorry, how did I miss you earlier?” Nick stopped himself as soon as he’d finished speaking, and saw her lips, pale and soft, break into a wide grin. 

 “I’ve always appreciated American charms. You must be Nick, Hana mentioned you to me. We’re family. I’m Maya.” As she spoke, she walked over to the sword and took it down herself. 

 “She said you felt an affinity to this weapon, and I think I can see it in you, you know.” She walked up to him and presented the hilt to him. 

 “Broad shoulders, keen eyes, you have the makings of a fine warrior.” Somehow the words were both a joke and a genuine compliment. 

 She was wearing a black leather skirt, a top that had more in common with a corset than a blouse, and a soft black leather jacket. Somehow her hourglass figure had eluded him until just this moment.

 Somehow she’d managed to put a sword in his hands without him noticing her deep cleavage, but now that was all he could see. 

 “Good hero, would you believe me if I told you now was your chance to slay a monster?” She was running her fingertips up and down the flat of the blade and was far too close for comfort, but not in a bad way. 

 Nick smiled, “It would be my duty if my hostess asked me wouldn’t it?” 

 She laughed, and his eyes found those pale lips and thoughts of deep slow kisses filled his imagination, “But what if I were to tell you I was that monster? That I was the same wrathful being that seduced and waylaid the first owner of that sword, and all its owners in the ensuing years?” 

 “I feel like I’d have a lot of questions for you.” It was fun to play along with her, she was flirting with him in the most absurdly disarming way and it didn’t hurt that she looked like a wet dream come to life, plus there was that sexy accent to boot. 

 “Such as?” She pressed herself closer to him, the sword still between them, but not much else was.  He felt a sudden chill as she moved in though, and reflexively he took a step back. His eyes found hers as he did, and the green glow he saw didn’t seem human. In that moment the cold moved through his blood and he felt his grip on the blade tighten. 

 Still though she ran her delicate fingers up and down its edge. 

 “Wha… what are you?” 

 “Someone who will come to you again soon, in a manner and place more befitting what is to come. Here, I am just as you see me and nothing more, here is a public place, and were you to strike me down, all that would save me would be to try and avoid your blow. And were you to strike, perhaps here…”  She guided the tip of the sword to her round white breasts that were barely contained in her top, “I would vanish into nothing, and none would know save for you, and Hana. And trust me when I say she would not fault you. No, now is the time you could be a hero proper.” 

 Something, some gallant inspiration or some secret will buried in the sword called upon him to strike, and for a moment Nick found his body moving, flowing like a river, carried by a perfect sense of time and focus, smooth and practiced as though he’d lived his life with a sword in hand, but as her jacket fell to the ground, his body came to a stop. 

 Blue serpents coiled up and down her arms, tattoos that moved with a life of their own in the moonlight, danced with a twisting visage that beguiled him so, leaving him wondering if it was her hands, or the snakes that had pulled down her top. 

 Those glowing green eyes looked into his, and he was still, not entranced by the light but shocked by the whole of the moment. 

 Her hands played with her breasts, her voice bright and wonderful, dripping with casual joy, “Go to your chambers and take the sword with you. I am forbidden to challenge you unarmed now that you have taken the blade. Go now, but first, gaze.” 

 She started to massage her breasts and shift on her hips like a snake or a belly dander, “Do not let what you see become your world now, do not find yourself becoming transfixed by the sight, hypnotized now, do not let yourself realize you are being hypnotized.” 

 The words warned him and he wanted to shake free of the sudden and powerful effect of her speech, but to say it out loud and so clearly, the effect of her words worked against their meaning and Nick found himself instantly entranced. 

 “There is no right name for what I am good hero, there is no lore that rightly defines me. Over the centuries I have preyed upon the brave and the just, and they have given me all I would crave. Some few have escaped me, they have not accepted or offered an invitation, they did not find themselves enthralled, hypnotized as you say now, but would your eyes look away if they could, would you want to now, no, watch me and fall deeper.” 

Nick’s grip had loosened, and the sword fell with a crash as a dizzying wave of fatigue washed over him. And it was only then that he realized the room was empty, lit by overhead lighting, no longer dark on the edges or filled with moonlight, and there was no trace of the woman. Quickly, he picked up the sword, fighting againt the sleepiness that permeated his mind, and found himself eye to eye with the Lady Hana.

“She cannot affect you if you do not step from your chamber or invite her into your room. Take the sword and go now, and know that if you try and strike from within to without, you will break the barrier and do her no harm. You can only best her on an even field, but it is better not to fight her at all. Her powers, beyond hypnosis and seduction will only work in the same field, otherwise she only has the same abilities as any other woman. You can’t be hypnotized unless you let her, it isn’t magic, it’s what psychologists and performers use. I’m sorry this has happened, but if it wasn’t you, it would have been someone weaker. You have a chance where no one else would.” 

She spoke so quickly that it felt like she was physically forcing him out of the room, but Nick couldn’t bring himself to be pushed anymore. “What is she, why is this happening, why are you letting this happen to me.” 

Hana shook her head, “This is the family curse, before the Norman Conquest, the way my family kept its power and then survived the invasion was by a communion with the other side. Maya, as she calls herself now, become something else. She’s like a succubus, not the stories, but she is of what inspired them, and what informed others of what they thought vampires were. She is, listen, most dream entities come from sleep paralysis and repressed emotions, but she is the real thing. If you stay in your chambers and do not invite her in she cannot harm you, well harm isn’t the right word but you should think of it as harm I promise you. And if you do not leave your chambers she will not be able to take you either.” 

“I don… why didn’t she just…” Nick was shaking his head, and his only courage came from the weapon in his hand. 

“She was priming you here. She was using hypnosis to put a suggestion inside you to invite her up. She would have skipped the battle of wills that is coming and had you simply inviter her in now. It has to be an invitation from her or from you, and it has to occur before the moon hits its peak. You only have to defeat her once though, once you meet her challenge on one night then you will have her eternally bested. I’ve spent my life traveling the world trying to find ways to rid this castle of her, and there is no way save combat, and none who have met her on that ground have withstood her will and her desires.” 

“Why, what, why the sword?” It felt like a bad joke, an exciting and awesome bad joke. Magic, monsters, rules, swords, everything he loved was real, and that was as terrifying as it was exciting. “She would have lured someone here to touch the blade, someone weak, someone who would have been easy prey, but she can only pursue one who is a warrior, or marked as such. The trick of holding the sword, or any weapon made specifically for battle, is that it marks you and allows her to come for you. A wood chopping axe would not be enough, it has to be a true weapon.” 

“But there are so many more here, can’t she just…” 

Hana stopped him, “No, the sword is tied to her. Its first owner was ensnared by her, and she used him to father children with my ancestor, that were her descendants. It has given her power and refined her, the more power there is for one of her kind the more rules she must abide by. The lesser of her ilk can come and go and prey on whomever they chose, but they are easily destroyed and they lack her majesty. I hope this steels your resolve, remember, you must face her before the moon’s peak, and you must not accept or offer her an invitation spoken or not. She is a mistress of her art, she is deadly, but you can triumph, now go.” 

With his head spinning, and memories of her luscious tattooed body filling his mind, Nick made his way to his room, sword in hand, and shut the door. He fell into a dreamless sleep of stress-fueled exhaustion, and stayed in that dreamless slumber until he heard a knock at the door. 

It had all been a dream, it was morning, it was time for classes, it was… 

Dark outside and moonlight filled his room. 

He was fully clothed still and a long sword was in his hand. 

There was a rapping at his chamber door as if someone was gently tapping… No, he shook his head and steeled himself against that random whimsical thought. 

Nick stood up and it all came back in a heart-pounding flash that muted the now incessant tapping of knuckles on wood. 

Everyone in stories like this that didn’t end well made the same mistakes. They were stupid, or prideful, or arrogant. These stories were instructive about human weakness, and the creature he had seen, clad in leather and radiating sex was a walking embodiment of human weakness. 

That was what she was, that was why if you fought her directly she would crush you. Weakness had to be endured, and he had the sword now, maybe for as long as he had it, maybe if he could take it with him or lay claim to it, then this thing would be vanquished forever. 

With a sadness he’d never expected to come with courage, Nick stood up with the sword in his hand. Then, he dropped it on the bed. It would be there if he needed it. 

Without a word he opened the door, then took a step back from the threshold. “You should go now, you can save us both the disappointment.” 

It was the most confidence he could muster, and he said it to a woman shaped shadow etched in silver light, and to the two flickering orbs of green that glowed in its vaguely human shaped head. The shadow did not twist or bend, it did not change, instead, the darkness fell away like rain running down a windowpane, and the same enthralling creature he had seen before wholly took shape before him. “I’ll leave now if you come with me.” The same musical voice escaped those pale lips, and those same delicate fingers ran through her too red crimson curls. 

“No, and you can’t come in.” With that, Nick walked away from the door and turned his back to her. He sat at a small desk in the room and turned on the small lamp that sat on it. To his surprise it worked, and with the room now washed in pale white electrical light and not the ghostly shimmer of the moon, he picked up one of his books and started reading.

“What are you doing?” The voice, with its delicate accent and evocative sweetness was full of surprise. “Homework. I like to work ahead, so I’m going to sit here and read until you leave.” Then, with that, he put in his headphones and turned up his music. 

Seconds later, he smelled something sweet in the air, and he heard a moan that pierced through the music. No, it was mixed in with what he was hearing, traveling on some other channel that couldn’t be blocked out. 

It was the gasping sound of a woman’s pleasure, and the smell was, well it was inviting and distracting. “Scent is the sense most associated with memory isn’t it Nick? Who does my pussy remind you of?” Those words cut in, mingled with short gasps of breathy pleasure. 

“I hope you’re not thinking of her now? Not thinking of the last time you smelled this. Please keep reading, just focus on the words, one after the next, and try not to let those warm wet memories start to creep in. Try and focus, just read, and don’t think about how good it feels when you got to slide into that tight, wet, slit. Don’t think about how much you wanted it, don’t think about how turned on you were earlier either, just focus on your reading.” 

He took his headphones out, the music had become a static crackle behind her words, words that somehow fit the rhythm of the song and distorted everything he was hearing to the point that he couldn’t focus at all, and no matter how many times he re-read the sentence he was on, he couldn’t absorb it. 

Still though, he didn’t turn around, and he kept reading, or trying to, and still, the honey sweet scent of her arousal filled the room. And it did, despite his best efforts, take him back and turn him on. It was wholly distracting, but Nick kept his face in his book and didn’t look back. 

“You’re the first person to try and ignore me like this. Others have refused to open the door, but eventually night after night my visits drove them to the limit and they all opened up eventually, and they all surrendered to my charms as well. But you, you’re clever and you’re not clinging to that antique like a safety blanket are you?” 

Again, her words were punctuated by moans and gasps, and he couldn’t tell if it was his imagination of not, but he thought he could hear her slickness as she continued to touch herself. He had heard the crinkle of leather, he knew that, but he refused to take in the sight of what was unfolding. 

Somehow, that made it hotter. 

“You know the longer you read, the more the words will begin to blur together, reading them over and over again as your eyes begin to get so tired, don’t you? You’ll want to close them, and it’s inevitable isn’t it?” She stopped moaning and her voice had dropped into a softer tone, it wore a flimsy mask of sincerity and though he knew it was only a ruse her words still bore a heavy weight on his body and mind. 

Still, the secret to his success he knew, was to not engage and to resolve himself to resist. Not to fight, not to struggle or play into her traps, but to deny himself the permission to go into trance at all. And, he told himself, even if she could hypnotize him, that didn’t mean she could get him to do anything he didn’t want to do. Being a nerd, he’d gotten the gist of what real hypnosis was, and mystical creature or no, her arcane and mysterious powers would not avail her until the threshold was broken. 

But, and his swollen cock and aching balls could attest to this, there was no power more mysterious and dangerous than her feminine wiles and raw sexuality. Even knowing the scope of his situation it was still impossible not to be at least gently seduced and attracted to her, he was after all, only a college kid.

Nick shifted in his seat and told himself that he wasn’t playing her game, but it seemed that the rules included him having to listen to her. Mercifully he wasn’t facing a mirror or any windows so there was no chance of seeing her reflection. 

“I admire a cunning mind, a creative imagination can serve you so well, and it’s good to feed it, word after word, the more you learn, the more you know, the more you understand. Long ago, there was no word for what I did, there was no real language for placing another into a trance, it was just magic, like medicine or science was. Now, over time, being able to study myself, learning techniques, studying psychology as you call it, I understand the tools I’ve always had, the ones that exist in your realm. And were I to say I was a master of hypnosis, or a mistress if you please, and that I could place you into a trance instantly, almost as I had earlier, you would understand all of this, because the more I say the more you, know, and you know your eyes are getting heavier don’t you?” 

She was a gifted conversationalist, he had to giver her that, and she knew how to be persuasive, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he kept his eyes down on the page, and though he was a fast reader, he’d yet to make it to the bottom for obvious reasons. Now, in addition to everything else, his mind had to fight the basic logic of recognizing her skill and also accidently accepting her authority on the topic of hypnosis. 

“I also admire someone cunning enough to adhere to the spirit of the rules, but the danger for someone with a creative mind, like yours perhaps, is that they imagine so many outcomes over and over again, trying to understand if the next time they blink it’s because they’re just blinking, or because their heavy tired eyes, like your eyes must be becoming more and more now, are starting to close in that soft eventual surrender we all feel when we’re so very sleepy now don’t we?” 

He blinked, and it took him a moment to open his eyes again, they’d closed as she spoke, and he was struggling to unpack what she was saying, trying to stay one step ahead of her verbal assault. It also struck him in that moment that whatever she was doing was working on him, and it had worked early too. 

That didn’t mean it would work all the way, but he had to recognize he wasn’t immune. “I wonder if you’ll realize it would just be easier for you to face me now, to put the book down, all the way down, like heavy eyes that want to close, so you can focus on resisting me, and I won’t ask you not to think about surrendering and sleeping now, it would be nice to close your heavy eyes and sleep now, but there’s time for that later, and you could move to later now, later and later in the evening as the moon reaches is peak in the night, time passing, like a dream has brought the moments past over and over, losing track of whatever memory you might remember forgetting now, as those sleeping eyes are still shut, dreaming of sitting through all of this, making it to the end and waking up, maybe in something like a dream but it’s better to turn and face me now, you’ve lasted to the last as every second has past, look at me Nick.”

Her monologue had struck with a rapid and relentless force of reason, or the illusion of the rational and one by one each of her words had spun his awareness about and his eyes had closed, and opened and closed again, and he’d put his book down and felt like all of this had been a dream, and then he was looking at her, staring into her pale green glowing eyes as silver moonlight consumed and erased the electric glow of his lamp, and he’d realized he’d made a mistake, and much like the realization he wasn’t immune, knowing he’d been lured into this exact moment only served to undercut whatever confidence in his resistance Nick had. But still he knew it, and his mind cleared, only for him to realize that the darkness in his room had become near palpable at the very edges and the silver illumination on her skin only made her more radiant

and bewitching. He was still sitting down, he was still physically aroused, and the room was still filled with the aroma of her sex. 

“I shouldn’t be telling you this secret, because it may help you resist me and you may feel the urge to resist, maybe even resist resisting, we’ll see, but when someone falls into a trance, a light trance like you did, then as soon as they come up and out of trance like you just did now, it can become even easier for them to drop deeper now, down into my cleavage now, dropping down into my irresistible cleavage is so easy now isn’t it happening right now, because it’s so easy to be hypnotized by a mistress of hypnosis like myself, isn’t it?” 

His eyes didn’t close, but his vision became blurry and dim at the edges, casting the world into an ethereal black and white, where the only true colors he saw were the red of her hair and the green of her eyes. His body slumped back more fully into his chair, and Nick felt drained of the near frantic tension that had been keeping him upright and alert. Now he was staring into her cleavage, and following the suggestions of a master hypnotist, and that logic that he wasn’t aware of processing was working beneath the sleepy surface of his mind. 

She was still wearing the soft leather jacket and the bustier she’d called a top, and with eyes dim with lust, and sleep, he watched as the jacket fell to the ground out in the hallway. 

“I used to approach my desired ones naked, but for a cloak, “ as she spoke her body began to dance again in the same serpentine sway as before, and as she moved the blue snakes tattooed on her arms seemed to glow as her eyes did, and they too seemed to move to the music of her voice. “Now, I prefer more modesty, I’ve learned that in these final moments, in these final tests, a measure of titillation and teasing is more powerful than the impossibly blatant whims I displayed earlier.” 

He watched her move, and it felt as though his waking mind was moving through a long tunnel, and as it grew closer to the end and the word seemed to grow brighter and more clear again, she rolled her hips and twisted from her waist, then started to speak in the same gentle and irresistible tone, “Watch my breasts, like a hypnotist’s pocket watch, watch my breasts back and forth.” 

She said back and forth several more times, moving her body, dancing for him. “That’s right use your eyes, only your eyes, sleepy eyes as time passes by, like a pocket watch that swings, you are getting sleepier and sleepier with every moment, watching my breasts now, hypnotic breasts that go back and forth for just your eyes, use just your eyes, remembering their perfect naked shape, seeing them in your mind, inspiring you, so aroused as time passes, and you are safe this time, safe to surrender to these needs, not my words, no resistance is needed when you only need to touch yourself, and not me, watching me, needing to relieve this need, just to resist me.” 

Her skirt had fallen away somehow, discarded into a pile with her jacket, and he saw red panties the same color as her hair. As she continued to slither back and forth before his eyes, her hand moved down between her legs again, and this time he saw it as a finger slid in. 

She moaned as she danced, and the air was filled with a fragrant explosion of her lust, an aroma that had become overpowering now. 

“You can resist me, it’s time to fight the urge to fall, take away my power and touch yourself, don’t resist resistance, don’t resist resisting now, I want you to resist the urge to not listen, let me help you not resist when you need to resist to surrender not to surrender as that hand moves down, easy enough, and wonderfully relieving to touch yourself with all your want, we want your want. My arousal tempts you, and you can give up your arousal and resist me if you don’t resist me, you see, it’s easy, stroke, and spill and you’ll be free.” 

His hands had moved between his legs, first to undo his pants, then to pull out and start to slowly stroke himself. Her seemingly endless nonsense of nearly rational words had clicked in his head or fallen just right so that he understood the loop hole she was offering. If he wasn’t turned on anymore, she couldn’t temp him. 

As soon as his hand made contact with his cock, her top fell away, and as he started to pump more vigorously, unknowingly still forced to stare at her breasts from a suggestion that had come and go so quickly he couldn’t have noticed it to have resisted it at all, her panties fell to the floor as well. 

“Look at me, look at my breasts, beautiful and arousing, stroke it Nick, you’re going to resist by not resisting, you’re going to last as time passes like my breasts back and forth, and soon it’s time to cum, and maybe you’re ready to cum now, back and forth from needing to wanting, from wanting to needing now, with just your eyes, like my breasts, up and down, and inside out, and it would feel twice as good to cum inside me as it does to cum out there, and you can cum inside me if you tell me what you prefer, to cum out or to cum in, what do you want, please cum out, or please cum in, tell me what would feel better from my breasts, back and forth and please cum out or please cum in, tell me Nick, tell me what feels better. 

“Please cum in.” The words escaped his lips and he had no idea what he’d said. 

“Thank you for the invitation.” She stepped over the threshold into his room and with a delicate hand she stopped his stroking them kissed him with the slow and meaningful grace of a life long lover. Then she straddled him in the chair, taking him in and surrounding him with a bitter chill that became an irresistible heat. 

“You almost made it Nick, “ her voice ran down his spine and into his guts, and a part of him realized that he’d lost, but whatever shame, or pride, or resistance he felt was ushered out of his body in a climax so long and so full he blacked out from pleasure. 

Hit lips had barely found her breasts when he erupted inside her, and the last thing he remembered was a single instant of feeling the softness of her touch, the tightness of her wet slit, and the fullness of her breasts, then he was lost to a darkness that had no name. 

The morning light shown in through the windows and as Nick stirred, he felt a warm soft body in bed next to him. He felt drawn to it and snuggled closer. Pale red hair, fell down in a soft cascade over white shoulders, tanned evenly by the sun. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it from happening, “ the woman’s voice, Hana’s voice, sounded like pure music in his ears and whatever she said was all that he cared about or desires. “I tried to rid myself and my family of her, but I couldn’t do it. Now, she’ll be born into the next generation, and she’ll leave me to become our daughter when she’s of age.” 

He heard the words but didn’t care about their meaning. The closeness to her was as intoxicating as the finals throes of the evening had been. Acting on some instinct beyond the spoken word, Nick’s hand moved between her legs and softly teased her until she was wet. 

She moaned and parted her legs for him, hungry for his touch in ways he felt as keenly as his own most basic desires. 

He didn’t say a word, nor did she, he simply took her, and it was just as she wanted. He took her from behind, and with all his strength and purpose, hungry to give all of himself to her, he put her pleasures first and found an endurance his body had never known. Only when she moaned out that she’d had enough, that it was time, did he feel himself freed inside her. 

Hana left him there in bed and showered. 

It wasn’t ideal to have a your body become the vessel of a spirit that fed on sexual energy, but the attraction and the power that it gave you over that’s spirit’s prey wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Hana laughed as the hot water fell down across her body, it was like her own mother had said, if you can rid yourself of Maya you may at least enjoy the gifts she gives. 

The End.