Craven's Downfall

Craven's Downfall
Stephanie Burke
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2023 Stephanie Burke

He looked over the mass of writhing bodies that surrounded his chair and sighed with boredom. There was nothing new going on. Same old sucking, same old fucking. No matter how you looked at it, the beings here were just going through the motions. Was there any pure lust left in the world?

He looked out over the toys scattered around the chamber, and felt, well, jaded. The leather whips looked like so much show. The dildos of varying sizes were just large doorstops. The people were fun to look at, but they lacked something.

Tapping one long black nail against his right fang, he contemplated the group before him. Orgies had become rather boring of late. He looked down at the naked female, lips wrapped around the head of his penis, and sighed. This was not good. If the suction of her mouth, so strong she could probably suck the brass off of a doorknob, couldn’t get a rise out of him, he needed help.

“Thank you, lover,” he purred as he tangled his hands in her long red hair. “But this just isn’t working. I think I’m… bored with you.” He made a shooing motion with both hands, ignoring her shocked and hurt face. “Run along now. I’m sure someone will appreciate your obvious talents, but that person isn’t me.”

Turning his back on her stricken face, he stumbled over a few bodies engaged in a threesome, stepped over a heaving woman being taken in the animal position, and side-stepped over a pair doing interesting things with a silk scarf, a willow branch, and some honey. But even that sight didn’t make him feel anything.

Taking one long last look over the great hall, he turned his back on the ribald entertainment and made his way to his personal quarters.

Naked and unconcerned, he moved with a grace usually reserved for felines. His long, ankle-length hair floated around his bare feet as he delicately navigated the deep rose floors and walls of the hallway. Maybe it was time to change that color? As carnal as it was, it was giving him a headache.

Tucking a few loose strands behind his delicately pointed ears, he ran his hands over his chest, stopping to check to see if his nipple bar was still in place. During his last orgy, some minor Fairy managed to dislodge the fastening ball as she suckled upon the nipple. A choking land sprite was not his idea of a fun time, so he replaced the ring with the sturdy bar. It felt better and damn if it didn’t make his chest look more powerful.

He continued at an unhurried pace until he stopped in front of a large door. He paused there, then rested has hands, laden with silver rings, against the leather-covered surface.

Ah, he loved the feel of leather against his skin. The material felt so full of vibrancy and life. It seemed to absorb a bit of the life force of those who wore it, and offered a special comfort. What could be more comforting than one’s own arms?

Shaking his head at his whimsy, he brushed more of his hair behind his ear, gently untangling errant strands from the many-jeweled studs that lined up to the delicate point at the tip, and reached out to grasp the doorknob.

With a flick of his wrist, the lock gave, and he entered his personal domain. No one would enter this room, even if the lock was not present. It was a special place, designed by one who believed in honesty to oneself above all else. For who could stand to see their innermost desires reflected back at them a million times over?

Only someone who had a deep connection to Craven could open the lock when he was not present. And no one he knew of had that connection.

A cool wash of air caressed his bare skin. He absently thought of the carnal pleasure he took as the cold caressed his vital parts, contrasting with the natural heat of his body, before he stepped further in to the room.

He smiled as he saw a million reflections of his own turquoise eyes staring back at him.

From every crystal-faceted wall, ceiling, and floor, he saw the cool diamonds reflect his image at him. The curved and bent walls distorted some images so much that he looked fey -- glowing eyes and otherworldly aura -- while others made him look almost human. Though all the images were of him, the different images were of his personality, of his inner self, and they all had one thing in common. The frank sexual nature of each image would be startling to one who did not know themselves so well. He knew who he was. His name said it all.

Craven. Lord of Carnality, Master of Fleshly Desires, Prince of Pleasurable Pain, Dark Master of Desire.

He paid scant attention to the many leering faces that surrounded him, showing his inner sexuality and love of the flesh. His facets were known to him. But it was the heart of the chamber that he sought.

In the center of this crystalline chamber sat his mirror. But it wasn’t just any mirror. It was his looking glass into the souls of men. The S-shaped mirror was purest glass, rough-edged and incomplete. To complete it would have taken away from its power, made it a thing completely of man, and destroying its connection to the earth.

The almost liquid surface of the glass showed none of the reflections that bounced off of the walls in this room. It waited, its glassy sheen unbroken, ready to be filled with the magic of its owner. It levitated above a large rock of crystal, suspended and beckoning to him, daring him to peer into its depths and discover what he sought.

He slowly crossed to its stand, relishing the cool feel of the slick, icy surface of the diamond floor under his feet. In this place, his hair almost became an annoyance as it detracted from the feelings of pure lust that began to fill the chamber.

Pushing that mild annoyance aside, he bracketed the small shard of glass between his hands, feeling the energy that surrounded this magical object. The small hairs on the lower part of his arms stood on end as he began to fill the mirror with his presence, with his personal power.

“My old friend,” he purred as the mirror slowly began to spin between his cupped palms. “I fear I have become rather jaded of late and I seek a new experience. Show her to me.”

The mirror began to spin faster and faster. Sparks of pure energy crackled around it as an unknown force began to make the air shift and blow. His hair flew wildly around his body, covering his flesh with the dark silk, flowing around the spinning glass but never actually touching it. His eyes began to glow eerily in the illumination of the room.

“Yes, that’s it,” he breathed as a face began to appear in the whirling dervish that was his mirror.