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 THE NIGHT VISITOR By Karnal December 2004

   (gM, mind-control)

   I woke abruptly, my eyes stinging, dazzled by the bright bedside light.
In my stupor, I tried to work out how the light could have been switched
on; I was alone in the house, no one else had a key; maybe it was a fault
in the wiring.  A chill froze my blood as I realized I was not alone. 
Someone was standing quietly at the foot of my bed.

   "Who's that?" I growled, still groggy and half-blind.  There was no
answer.  As my eyes recovered, I could make out a slight figure.  I sat up,
to get a better view, or at least I tried.  My brain sent the message to my
muscles, my muscles duly flexed but nothing happened.  I could lift my head
a few inches, but that was all.  I was paralyzed.  I will never forget that
awful feeling of helplessness as I lay there, completely immobile.  Was it
a stroke, a tumour, an embolism?  This was totally beyond normal
experience, at least for me.  I have never felt as terrified as I was at
that moment.



   The figure at the foot of the bed moved.  I tried to tell myself it was
a hallucination, caused by the stroke I had just suffered.  No, not a
stroke; anything but that.  The figure is real, I told myself, I haven't
had a stroke, I've just been paralyzed in some way by a complete stranger
who has entered my house in the dead of night.



   She was standing at the side of my bed now.  I saw she was a slender
young girl of no great stature, perhaps twelve years of age and rather
pallid, almost consumptive.  A feeling of relief swept over me; whatever
was going on here, I had nothing to fear from this girl.



   Her raven-black hair and pale complexion gave her an unearthly
appearance as she stared down at me.  My sense of relief dissipated
rapidly, as if I were pinned to a board waiting for her to dissect me.  I
noticed she was clothed rather formally in a dress of dark red velvet, with
a black diamond choker around her neck.



   I tried once more to sit up, but I was still helpless.  I attempted to
speak, but found I had lost even that ability.  The young woman smiled at
my futile struggles, that cold smirk the most chilling thing of all to my
terror-stricken brain.



   I watched as the girl pulled back the bedclothes.  It is my habit to
sleep naked, and I could feel my cheeks redden as my body was exposed. 
Once more, I flexed my muscles, striving to at least cover my nakedness,
but to no avail.  She seemed unembarrassed, dispassionately surveying my
body as if I were a laboratory specimen.  Perhaps to her I was.



   The girl turned away from the bed for a second; when she turned back,
she was holding a large glass jar.  She looked at the jar, then glanced at
my genitals; an expression of mild distaste crossed her face momentarily,
to be replaced by a look of satisfaction, as if she had suddenly resolved a
dilemma.



   Placing the jar on the bedside table, the girl turned her back to me and
quickly lifted the hem of her dress, pulling it up over her head.  When she
turned back, my face burned crimson as I saw her nakedness.



   Her body was slim and deathly white, her tiny breasts tipped with
rosy-pink nipples.  Incongruously, I realized she was still wearing white
silk stockings tied with pale-pink garters just above the knee.



   The woman climbed onto the bed, kneeling above me, her body almost
touching mine.  I could not take my eyes from her and she saw me looking. A
knowing expression crept across her face.  My treacherous body, so
dismissive of my own requirements, had no such qualms about responding to
the proximity of this young girl.  My flaccid member was rapidly
stiffening, and she turned her attention to it with a look of quiet
satisfaction.



   To my horror, she reached to my groin and grasped my engorged penis in
her hand.  She began to stroke it, a simple steady rhythm, but terribly
effective.  As she played with my organ, she leaned over further to brush
her tiny breasts over my belly and chest.  I have enjoyed the company of
many women, professional courtesans and enthusiastic amateurs.  None, no
matter how experienced, could have matched the skill exhibited by this slip
of a girl; no one has been able to arouse me so quickly and so fully.



   By now my penis was engorged with blood, I could practically feel it
throbbing.  The girl had drawn back my foreskin and my purple bulb
glistened in the harsh light.  A deep aching filled my scrotum, my
testicles felt huge and bloated as she continued to masturbate me gently,
rubbing her body over mine, pausing occasionally to bite one or other of my
nipples.



   I could feel a tightening in the groin and I knew orgasm was imminent.
She must have sensed this, for without breaking her rhythm she quickly
turned and picked up the jar, placing it over the head of my penis.  She
then began to stroke me more rapidly and I could feel myself approaching
the point of no return.  A mind-numbing climax washed over me as I
ejaculated into the jar; large gobbets of semen spurted out of my penis,
striking the base of the receptacle and beginning to trickle down the
sides.



   The young woman then deftly inverted the jar to retain what she had
evidently been seeking.  Although she obviously had what she wanted, she
continued to masturbate me until I was completely drained and my penis was
starting to soften.  Lifting her hand to her face, the girl sniffed,
relishing the scent of my juice; then a small, almost reptilian, tongue
flicked out to taste the residue on her fingers.



   I watched as she clambered from the bed, with the jar held delicately in
one hand.  I was still completely immobilized, and was unable to see what
she was doing.  When she came into my field of vision again, she was once
more fully clothed.  The girl gazed down at me, and now her face was that
of an angel, suffused with fulfilment and serenity, the half-filled jar
clutched tightly to her breast.  She turned away for the final time, and I
gradually lapsed into unconsciousness.



   When I awoke, my limbs were once again responsive to my will, though my
body felt drained of every drop of vital force, and my skull throbbed with
pain.  I dragged myself out of bed, and shuffled around the house to check
the doors and windows.  Every means of entry was locked; there was no sign
that anyone had visited me in the night.



   I shuddered as I remembered my ordeal, frozen to the marrow by the
thought that the creature might come back the next night; but a part of me,
a tiny, primeval part, yearned for her return.