August 2025

Exhaustion and euphoria twined through me like clandestine lovers, conspirators whispering in the marrow of my bones. My skin still bore the river’s wild perfume, moss and dusk tangled like ribbons upon my flesh, until the steaming shower coaxed it away, pearl-lit bubbles sighing across me, black orchid and honeysuckle steeped into a crepuscular haze that curled upward in indolent spirals. I lingered, oh, how I lingered, while the water lapped and teased at each hollow, each sharp-boned ache, until even my pulse surrendered to the languor of watery seduction.

But they were waiting – two immortals, my immortals, lounging like brooding panthers just beyond the en suite. I sense them, just a few feet away, their presence a velvet weight in the air, voices low and inexorable, trickling like dark wine through the oak door. My Inner Goddess, so long entombed in silence, prowled at their invisible summons, gnawing, urging: “Rise. Go to them. Do not leave them hungry.” 

I jolted and paused under the cascading embrace. Had she truly returned to me?? Or was the voice a mere phantom? A fateful wish? She did not utter another word, and I might have forever remained in the igneous waterfall. But curiosity gnawed. Her desire prowled. And so, regretting my decision, I stoppered the flow. Reluctant as a courtesan departing her silken bower, I stepped from the porcelain tub, clutching the towel to my breast as though it were both shield and invitation to be ripped away, exposing my milky flesh for their lecherous gaze. 

The door sighed open into a bloom of iridescent steam. Both turned at once. Their gazes netted me, wolfish and divine, pinning me with a predator’s patience. A single rivulet of water betrayed me, sliding down the ladder of my spine, and I cursed myself for leaving my hair unbound and dry, as if that feeble discipline might preserve some semblance of composure as I shivered before them.

I shifted barefoot upon the rug, swaying as though the very floor had tilted beneath me. Their silence was a devouring thing, an abyss that pulled at my breath, stripped me bare far more than the fragile towel I clutched like a sacrament. Yet in truth, every secret part of me longed for it to be torn away, for their hands to exact, to command, to consume. Still, neither moved, their stillness a throne of dominion, waiting, daring me to take the first trembling step.

A fissure of dread quivered through me. 

“What if I am still broken?” The words broke from my lips in a whisper, jagged, brittle. “I haven’t been working… what if I can’t…” 

My confession splintered, my voice failing me, until their answer rose like twin thunders. Both gods spoke at once, firm and unyielding, their certainty scorching away the frail shadows of doubt. I was not broken, they swore it, and what lay dormant could be roused, coaxed back from exile, my Inner Goddess teased from her reclusive hiatus.

Sitting comfortably on the edge of the bed, Jack’s knees parted then, a dark throne opening. His gaze bound me as surely as iron chains, his silence now an unspoken summons, and I faltered toward him, heart in riot, breath unraveling.

My hand rose of its own accord, fingers creeping behind the nape of his neck, drawing him into me, crushing my form to his own. His kiss found me in an instant, devouring, familiar, as if a conflagration long denied. My breath stuttered; my body knew him, knew the cadence of his hunger. He tasted of pine and mountain frost, of precious nights squandered in reckless abandon.

And yet, a mountain lingered inches away. My prodigal. My dark star. My Inner Goddess raked her talons through my ribs, demanding remembrance of the bruises I had once borne as emblems, the nights I had spent trembling beneath his exacting dominance.

With a blade’s reluctance, I tore my lips from Jack’s. In the hollow silence that followed, I realized my towel had fled, my plush shield vanished. Unveiled, exposed beneath their ravenous gazes, I felt no shame. Only the slow, sinuous unfurling of wings. My Inner Goddess stretched, darkling and triumphant.

Three tentative steps carried me to the waiting Demigod, his thighs parted, his eyes a firestorm that threatened annihilation. The instant my mouth touched his, the world fractured. My Goddess did not merely stir; she arose in her entirety, imperial and merciless, wings vast, talons gleaming.

I had wept for her absence, mourning the abject loss of a treasured part of me. Now, she surged, possessing me utterly, filling marrow and vein until I was nothing but a vessel for her imperious will. Gone was hesitation, gone the mortal girl who clutched at towels and shifted nervously upon bare feet. In her place: a creature of night, of craving, of unrepentant hedonism.

With reckless abandon, I clambered astride the Demigod, pressing him back upon the bed, my thighs an adamantine vice about his waist. He resisted at first, whether uncertainty or preference, I could not tell, but my Inner Goddess brooked no interference. With our sacred history, dominance was the lingua franca of our ruinous ballet, and, for this fleeting instant, the tables lay wickedly turned upon him. My Inner Goddess smirked.

Time dissolved. Was it January since the last time I tasted him? February? Or had centuries passed beneath the ever-changing stars? The peerless torment of his body consumed me, and the perilous proximity of Jack, an arm’s length away, turned each inhalation into a fevered litany of anticipation, each exhalation a tremulous surrender to salacious want.

I forgot my name. My purpose. I was unmade, then reforged as fire’s own consort, as ecstasy incarnate, a creature of midnight and stalking shadow. Their hands, all supremacy and cunning force, their mouths a crushing benediction, shattered me into delicious desecration, then pieced me back into something older, darker…an archon of desire. They moved with predatory fluidity, trading places with seamless steps until I simultaneously became tribute, feast, captive, and queen.

My Inner Goddess unfurled in wicked triumph. She demanded worship, demanded to be adored and used, demanded the pyre and the ashes and the phoenix’s delirious rise. Jealousy, awkwardness, fatigue, such mortal trifles dissolved in the conflagration of the night. Only fire remained. Only annihilation. Only sublimity stretched to the precipice of madness.

They moved with callous precision, a predator’s choreography working me until my very bones seemed to dissolve in their molten virility. One pressed behind me, a beast at once tender and grim. My fawnlike legs were forced apart, feet planted on the cool maple floor, tethering me to forbidden reality, while I consumed the one before me. The duality of sensation, the fill, the burn, the stretching, the worship, tore me into shards of raw, quivering rhapsody. I trembled, my breath coming in ragged, lustful gasps, a litany of need that was wholly mine and yet utterly surrendered. Then they shifted, again and again, until I was no longer a singular self but the blazing center of their ravenous cosmos: altar, feast, dominion, and offering all at once. 

My Inner Goddess reigned in selfish splendor, a suprema of lust and sin. She demanded to be worshipped, adored, fractured, reassembled in an unending cataclysm of ecstasy. Each scream, each shudder, each deliciously bruised cry became sacrament. The inferno consumed every thought until there was only fire and collapse, only elysium and ablation, and yet, I endured.

By the end, whether I rose shattered or triumphant mattered not. In their arms, I was both vanquished captive and goddess reborn, ascending in sweeping velvet oblivion, crowned in shadow and ruthless orgasmic flame.

The world contracted to the heat of them, the scent of sweat and fire thick as treacle. I was impaled and filled, stretched wide and swallowed whole from both ends, a vessel of their insatiable hunger. My throat burned, raw and protesting, yet each time one appropriated it I found a bestial pleasure in the rasp of my own moan, the tortured rapture of being undone. My apex throbbed, swollen and trembling, the sweet tyranny of my explosion eating away into every nerve.

The bedding beneath us was a sodden testament to our want, drenched and heavy with our excess, sheets knotting themselves to my skin in damp, shivering folds. The air hummed of us, rich and intoxicating, the fan above scattering our heat into a chill that only sharpened the ache.   My eyes were glazed, pupils dilated, catching only fragments of their stalwart faces, flashes of their devotion, and the cruel, heavy weight of their bodies. Inside me, their bulbous cocks throbbed like merciless pistons; each thrust a demand, each withdrawal a punishment. I push and pull of flesh striking flesh in a cruel canticle, the pulse barbarous, inexorable. My hands clawed, groped, worshiped…mapping the brutal architecture of sinew and bone, desperate to tether myself to the mortal while the immortal was rending me apart.

Each impulsion, each pitiless barrage, carved a deeper delirium into me, and I felt my mind dissolve into a singular obsession: to be wholly, irretrievably their reliquary, their feast, their desecrated, consecrated body. My Inner Goddess exulted in every soul-rending climax, her nails striking sparks that cascaded fire along my spine, reveling in the lurid ecstasy of pleasure so impossibly sharp it bled into endless want.

The room became a blur of shadow and sweat, of nectar-stained sheets and fevered, trembling limbs. My hands clawed at the sheets; they roamed, gripping, stroking, desperate talons seeking purchase on anything that might tether me to this mortal plane even as I was drowned in the fuliginous ecstasy of their dual claim. I was nothing but heat and craving, apex and throat and trembling spine, every nerve a conduit for their relentless, consuming fire. 

I was tethered between them, two perfect Olympians, bodies sculpted as though by the richest of marble, each a mirror of impossible strength and ravenous desire. Jack and the Demigod, once friends, now conspirators in my ruin, pressed into me with the languorous cruelty of those who knew every contour of the female body and every secret of carnal desire. Their strength was a devouring tide, their rhythm a relentless assault, and I, caught in a vortex where no mortal could survive, and yet I did, surrendered, reveling, caught wholly between fire and shadow, between lust and catafalque.

Others had tried before, boys draped in mortal arrogance. They had lusted, they had envied and coveted, they had faltered before the Demigod’s effortless friendship. Jealousy had ensnared them, left them fumbling, their hands clumsy, their fire suffocated by its one restrictive smoke. One by one, they fell into solitude, rejected by their own frailty. 

But here was Jack. With him, everything was intoxicatingly easy…the familiarity only sharpening the need that could never be quenched. In the presence of the Demigod, he did not falter nor shrink. Heavens, no. The Demigod was his conspiring accomplice, an Olympian moving in perfect tandem. Predator to predator. Their guttural growls urged my Inner Goddess awake, teeth grazing flesh, hands that seized and encompassed until the very air itself quivered with sacrament. And the sound…oh, gods…the sound made my soul tremble like glass caught in the wake of thunder. 

My apex throbbed, swollen, impossibly full, and still never sated…stretched, teased, and undone from every angle. My throat burned raw, each swallow both punishment and delight. I gasped, nails carving desperate furrows into sheets sodden with our want, hands roaming, clutching, tracing the divine planes of their perfection. They moved with unyielding precision, orchestrating a symphony of fire and flesh, leaving me trembling in brazen ecstasy.

Their bodies crashed into mine in a cadence of feral ecstasy, an oscillation both herculean and violent, each collision striking sparks through my marrow. Their growls were low, ominous, inexorable, and rolled like war drums through the chamber of my chest, causing my breath to catch and my Inner Goddess to stagger. Jack’s teeth raked the slope of my shoulder, driving me toward unspeakable heights. Meanwhile, the Demigod’s grip twisted me with iron precision, answering in a symphony of dominance and exalted pain.

My Inner Goddess unfurled in wicked triumph, tendrils raking down my spine, reveling in the dual possession, in the orchestrated, perfect destruction of me. She shrieked, not with sound but with the tremor of desire that ran through every vein, every fiber, exalting, reveling in the blaze. My breath came in ragged, fevered gasps, my nails sank into their shoulders, my body arched, twisted, submitting and demanding, and I could no longer discern where I ended and they began. 

Jack’s hands gripped my hips, guiding me, urging me to take the Demigod’s thrusts deeper, into more exquisite angles. The Demigod’s hands were everywhere at once, pinning, caressing, marking, and I felt the weight of them, not just their bodies but their fervor, their predatory delight, the dangerous glee in seeing me unravel. Each slam, each growl, each shared glance between them was a dagger of lust, a spark that ignited the wanton ache inside me. There was a promise, a command: You belong to us, utterly, irrevocably, for the fire we conjure is yours to bear.

I quivered in empyrean bliss, helpless and wholly devoted.

The sheets were soaked, our bodies slick, the room filled with growls, wet gasps, and the feral music of their shared pleasure. They shifted again, fluid, merciless, and I was nothing but apex and throat, spine and trembling nerve, a being of ecstasy stretched beyond mortal comprehension. Their eyes, glinting with demonic delight, held me captive even as their bodies tore me open, remade me, crowned me in the molten fire of dual worship.

I was undone. I was exalted. I was their altar, their flame, and in that darkness, with sweat and blood and fire dripping through every pore, I was utterly whole. Restored.

He knelt upon the bed like an obsidian obelisk, muscles taut, skin gleaming with the sheen of effort and want, each line of his body a subjagating promise. I lay before him, impaled upon his relentless perfection, and he rose, ever higher, until my fingertips barely grazed the bed, and the crown of my head pressed against its surface, my body twisted and arched in some obscene acrobatic contortion. I was weightless, teetering between agony and rapture, and each brutal, lupine, boring me into impossible ecstasy, each pump a declaration of ownership, of worship, of frenzied delight.

My poor apex throbbed, swollen, quivering, a conduit of insatiable fire, yet still he drove into me without mercy, without pause, without thought of yielding. My throat burned raw, rasping with broken moans, gasps that were prayers and curses intertwined. 

He lifted me higher still, arching my body into impossible angles, and I shivered, every sinew alive, every nerve like a taut wire, strung to its limits. My mind floated in a sea of weightless suspension. The Demigod’s pace was grievous, a pendulum of fire and want, and I rode it with delirious triumph, hips bucking, body trembling, moans shattering the air like chimes struck by lightning. I was a darkly exalted creature of flesh, poised between earth and some sublime, pierced, possessed, utterly devoured.

The room thrummed with the feral poetry of us, growls, wet, relentless, urging one another onward; the pounding of flesh against flesh; the sodden sheets became twisted in our wake, a testament to corruption and worship. My Inner Goddess soared above it all, talons raking the cosmos, wings beating against the corded bounds of my endurance, reveling in every cruel, grim-jawed plunge, every coruscating elevation, every brutal, thrilling impossibility.

Every invasion was a catafalque of sensation, every movement a crepuscular hymn of flesh and want, and I quivered in opulent surrender while thriving in impossible triumph. My body arched, bucked, and shivered; my breath came in ragged, fevered shards; my moans, half surrender and half command, sacrilegious in their offering, reverberated through the chamber.

I had never felt more powerful, more divine, more incandescent in my own lust. Each brutal, savage motion, each merciless assault lifted me higher into delirium, until I was nothing but ethereal fire, trembling apex, raw throat, and unquenchable want, a darkling queen exulting in her own impossible exaltation.

At last, the Demigod lay sprawled upon the bed, a living monument to exhaustion and victory, limbs splayed, chest heaving in ragged exhalations. Yet I was only beginning. My hands glided over him with the dark intimacy of a sculptor tracing marble, memorizing every ridge, every sinew, every trembling shiver of devotion. I worked him with the slow, tenebrous cruelty of one who knew his body as sacred, as prey. Heart and marrow, pulse and breath, every secret chamber of my soul lent itself to the ministrations.

Jack lingered at the corner of the bed, eyes wide with hungry fascination, lips parting in silent wonder. His gaze devoured us, and yet his restraint made the night more deliciously wicked. 

I hovered above the Demigod, a wild priestess of his body, hands and lips moving in conspiratorial rhythm. My palms molded him, tracing ridges, cupping, kneading, each stroke a summons, each caress a command. My mouth followed, tasting, teasing, swallowing in fluid, dark choreography, lips sliding over the thick crown, tongue flicking, dragging him toward a perilous edge. Every brush of skin, every press of my hands, wove a silent spell, an enchantment of lust and surrender, binding him, enthralling him, driving him to obsession.

I worked him higher, faster, hands and mouth entwined in perfect, ritualistic cadence, orchestrating a symphony of sinew and yielding that left even Jack breathless, a witness to the intoxicating covenant we forged. The Demigod’s Adonis form heaved at the apex of tension, a decadent threnody of flesh and fire. His moans, rough and desperate, mingled with my own, echoing through the chamber like the creaking of an ancient, sin-drenched cathedra. Then came the crescendo, the moment where madness and devotion blurred, where lust and reverence fused into singular, unholy ecstasy.

I bound his monolith fully in my grasp, fueling the wicked glory of my Inner Goddess. We moved together in a meter almost violent in its perfection, the sheets twisted, sweat and heat mingling, bodies trembling in the aftermath of our carnage.

The globular ropes of his release gleamed over my fingers, rivulets moving like living things, each surge a shiver of inevitability and dark magic. He quivered, veins straining, body taut as wire, a god unstitched by my conjuring. My Inner Goddess purred, reveling in it, a priestess of touch, domina to the gods.

When at last the tide ebbed, I lingered, fingers trailing over every trembling ridge, every shadowed hollow, whispering soft, unearthly consolations. My hands soothed, coaxed, lingered, turning post-ecstasy care into a decadent liturgy. He relaxed, chest rising and falling like the swell of a storm’s final sigh, and in that stillness, for just a minute second I felt the potent triumph of being mistress of his body, his surrender, and the night itself.

The hour had deepened into its richest indigo, the Moon Goddess presiding with quiet majesty over her glittering court. The Demigod, roused at last from his recumbent repose, rose to dress. Each gesture unfurled with a languorous gravity, every motion a slow eclipse, veiling from me the ravishing form that only moments ago was mine entirely. My Inner Goddess reclined within, near swooning at the spectacle, for each fold of cloth laid upon his body seemed less an act of closure than the incantation of a spell, a silken theft of what had been my sovereign possession.

At the threshold of the carved oaken doors, I drew him into me, arms winding about his neck, my body lifted to his towering height, melting into the radiant heat still emanating from his sculpted chest. I crushed him to me with all the fever of exhaustion and triumph, our mingled perfume clinging like the ghost of bruised violets upon my skin. 

My heart thrummed unbound, delirious with gratitude for the immensity of our communion. Long had I trembled at the thought of allowing such dread Olympians to trespass together beyond civility into that numinous province I had so fiercely guarded. Intimacy was the hierophantic sanctum where flesh and spirit are inexorably entwined and each union, to me, was a relic, inviolate and precious, not to be sullied by spectacle or rivalry. Yet no shadow of envy stirred between them; instead, I beheld my anxieties become lambent and dissolving, into blissful peace. What I had dreaded as desecration unveiled itself as consecration, my most secret foreboding transfigured into a benediction of wonder.

I sealed our parting with a final kiss, tender yet sweet, a hallowing pressed upon his lips, destined to linger like a phantom long after his footsteps dissolved into the shadowed hall.

And yet, even as he vanished, my body flared anew, my Inner Goddess surging, reclamatory, to steal back the time we had yet to sate. We craved the private communion, the ensuing collapse with My Love. Jack lingered at my side, patient, seemingly placid, yet beneath the serene mask, his pulse thrummed in perfect cadence with mine, quickening beneath my gaze. This moment was ours alone, clandestine, choleric, perfect.

I traced the line of his sharp jaw with a fingertip, each brush a sinuous vow of the chaos to come. My fingers glided down his chest, mapping the planes of his body as though committing him to memory for eternity. Teasing arcs lingered lower, kneaded, pressing over every sinew, every swell, my touch gluttonous, summoning him to the precipice of release before we allowed ourselves to retreat to the bedroom.

My mouth followed, tasting, murmuring over the heat of his skin, tongue flicking with meticulous cruelty, lips catching his lower lip and dragging with gentle, intoxicating bite. Each kiss, each caress, became currency, an intricate barter of longing, teasing, begging, commanding him to meet my need with equal ferocity. Jack shivered, ensnared in my witchcraft; his restraint only inflamed the exquisite, breathless creature that writhed around us, sinuous and hungry as a midnight serpent.

The room itself seemed to shiver, saturated with the musk of heat and anticipation, both ancient and fresh, the stars outside glimmering as gossipy witnesses. I moved over him, deliberate, feline, every brush of skin, every subtle press of hand and mouth weaving a darkly sacred incantation, Jack both willing disciple and helpless devotee.

Molten argent starlight traced the contours of the room, the Moon Goddess’s spectral glow casting solemn witness to the dominion I was poised to claim. The Demigod had been a consummate partner, but the apex of the night, the dark, baroque theater my Inner Goddess demanded, was yet to unfold.

Chest puffed, she stretched to her full height, wings beating against the confines of flesh, her voracity absolute, chaotic, unsparing. Mortals might never witness this, and that secrecy only fanned the fevered, uncontainable fire searing through me, a herald of the dark, carnal crescendo yet to arrive. The room, the stars, the night itself seemed to lean in, drawn by the obscene magnetism of our union, witnessing nothing but our perfect, dangerous communion.

Until next time, XO. Elsie