Your erotic stories

Author's Notes: Contains violence and what could be considered blood-play. ~*~*~ He could smell the blood everywhere. The scent was so strong that it seemed to cling to everything in the large building as he hurried up the stairs, taking two or three at a time before he burst into the room, nearly pulling the door from it's frame and hinges with the force of opening it.

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The room is getting darker. Out of the window I can see wooded hills on the eastern horizon, catching the last orange tinge of daylight, as the sun sets behind us. On the table by the bed there is a candle and a tinderbox. I strike a spark with some difficulty, as if the air is damp, and nurture a little fire to light the candle. The illumination it gives is meagre and yellow, serving only to heighten the shadows in the room, rather than dispel them. I rise and cross to the window.

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