| Straight: Fantasy/Demon/Gothic: Into the Mist (1/3) |
 23 votes |
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It was one of those very unusual Northeast Februarys that only come once or twice in a lifetime. Instead of being wintry, or even unseasonably cool, the weather at one o’clock in the morning was a balmy 68 degrees Fahrenheit. Ramona was standing outside her cabin, without even so much as a jacket to cover her clothing, absorbing her surroundings in disbelief. The air felt warm and close. Droplets of moisture played about her face as the heavy mist kissed her cheeks. Ramona spun around with her long arms stretched wide, allowing the drifting fog to settle upon her skin. Its unnatural warmth felt eerie. Her long, black hair lifted outwards as she spun, sending a damp caress along the back of her neck. Her nipples puckered through her clothing and she shivered a bit, once again standing still, allowing her spinning mind to come down from its high. Reaching over, she picked up her lantern and ventured forth to the edge of the woods, embracing her desire for adventure. She quickly found an entry point, an opening in last season’s brambles, and moved boldly onwards. With her lantern slicing a glowing path through the mist, she moved her way over to the hundred-year-old oak tree, a spot where she often sat on summery days, contemplating life. Her mind would wander as she sat, by her tree, her playful fingers sometimes satisfying her own needs, as she imagined lovers past and lovers yet to pleasure. She had never come here at nighttime, though, and the thrill of a new experience draped itself around her. The heavy fog glistened along the twigs and branches, throwing back the light it captured to help illuminate her travels. After making her way over the leaf-strewn forest floor, she finally came to her favorite tree and plunked her bottom down on the flat granite stone at the base of the old oak. What new sounds would she hear through this mist? Surely there were different woodland creatures mucking about in February. Certainly, insects were not yet an issue, she thought, quite relieved. She breathed in the mist deeply, filling her chest with new aromas and sensations. She stretched out her legs, one at a time, and leaned back against the massive trunk of the tree. Closing her eyes, Ramona began to lose herself in thought, and didn’t notice how the billowing mist began to suck itself closer, becoming denser and denser, surrounding her and her friendly oak. Ramona’s eyes sprang open, interrupting her meandering thoughts, as she felt her hair catch on something behind her. It tangled her hair so completely, she found it difficult, if not impossible to turn around. She then noticed how unbelievably thick the fog had become, obscuring most of her vision, despite the glow of her lantern. She tugged harder, trying to pull herself free, but found she was held firmly, unable to move, or even get up. As Ramona struggled, she heard a strange noise behind her. It was a viscous sound, a sound of motion, as if she could hear the sap running up the huge trunk behind her. The air around became thick and warm, and her nose detected a faint smell of fireplace smoke. All at once she felt her top being lifted over her shoulders from behind, exposing her small round breasts to the balmy night air. Her nipples instantly stiffened, in spite of her mixed emotions, and the surprise of it all caused an immediate tug and tightening, as she felt her excitement coaxed from down |
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