The Necromancer by Douglas Clegg

Author:Douglas Clegg [Clegg, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, horror, Occult & Supernatural
ISBN: 9781587670718
Google: CX2vBQAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1944668217
Publisher: Alkemara Press
Published: 2014-12-03T20:44:21.265291+00:00

23

At one point, toward the end of dinner, I had to go use the privy (as we often called the outhouse when I had been a boy).

In the great mansion, there were two possibilities for this. One choice sat in the back alley, behind the house, an actual outhouse, made from brick and stone rather than the thrown-together wood of my childhood. But upstairs, there was a room off the bath for this. I chose this latter method of pissing away the wine I'd been drinking, mainly because I wanted to see this elaborate room.

As I went into the bath area, and through it to get to what the owners of the house called a closet, the door partially open, I heard someone already using the facility.

I stood outside the little room, but from the slightly open door, I caught a glimpse of the one who used it.

It was Anya.

I saw a bit of her neck and the curve of her breast. I felt terribly low-class for looking, but I decided to move closer. I had never seen a lady in this position, and if you think me a worm for doing so, so be it.

I stepped cautiously to the edge of the doorway.

She sat astride what seemed a large urn painted with oriental designs. She had to lift her gown off in order to use this urn, and her undergarments, which were copious, were pulled down and in disarray all around her. Her breasts were held in by a white bodice, laced tight but with the top few stays undone. Her breasts were larger than they'd seemed at the table, and milky white. Her face betrayed no intelligence of my standing near, so I assumed I was safely invisible behind the door. I was both repulsed and attracted as I stood there. I felt arousal, and in the privacy of that moment, was not too disgusted with myself for feeling it.

I imagined opening the door, and throwing her back against the wall, and taking her there, over that enlarged chamber-pot, while she had no defense, neither would she cry out for fear of being ruined.

It was monstrosity within me, this fantasy I had. It was cruel and ruthless and yet provided me with a sense of power and pleasure.

I imagined tearing the bodice from her, ripping out the stays, grinding my face into those breasts while I took her breath away with my thrusts.

And then, as I imagined all this, I drew a quick breath.

Sitting on the urn, she seemed to glance up at me, for a moment.

Had she seen me?

I drew back.

I returned through the bath area and nearly bounded down the stairs, deciding to use the privy outside, after all.

My heart beat rapidly. Had she seen me watch her? Had she felt terror? Had she been intrigued? Why had I turned to this perversion, this fantasy, while a fine young lady had relieved herself? What disgusting nature had I discovered within my own flesh?

But when I returned

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