de Sade & Grimm, A Seduction of Clay: Salacious Medieval Mysteries, #2

By Liz Adams

I wake up with no memory of who I am. The potter claims to be my husband. 

He touches me. I do not resist.

He squeezes me. I do not resist.

His fingers enter me. I do not resist.

He demands I suckle him. I do not resist.

I swallow his essence.

I don't know who I am.

But I know he is not my husband.

 

WARNING: This story includes solo F, solo M, D/s, M/f and F/m. Also, in this short story, the victim is subservient to her master, unable to defy his commands. Such scenes may disturb sensitive readers. CWs are on the author's website.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brave Pleasures
• Release date: Dec 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781944841645

Book preview

De Sade & Grimm

De Sade & Grimm

A SEDUCTION OF CLAY

A DARK SUPERNATURAL SHORT STORY #2

LIZ ADAMS

For all who seek love and companionship on the road of life.

Contents

Who this book is for…

De Sade & Grimm

Finding an Unknown Husband

Stopping a Thief

The Powers of a Potato

Sleeping in Someone Else’s Bed

Cramming a Metal Finger

What Lies in a Library

A Naked Wife’s Husband

Codes and Clues

Alone with a Naked Wife

Selling Children

Hoarding Women for Pleasure

Returning to the Present

Treating Her Husband Properly

Crimes of a Mud Monster

Confronting the Mud Monster

A Night of Discovery

Author’s Note

de Sade & Grimm, An Ambush of Cream (Book #3, Book Description)

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Also by Liz Adams

If you like…

Who this book is for…

Genres:

Dark, Erotic Romance

Mythology

Supernatural

Medieval England

Short Story

Tropes:

Happy Ending

Dramatic Reveals

Forbidden Love

High Action

Ticking Clock

Themes:

Coming of Age

Pursuit of Love

Hypnotized by the Enemy

Loneliness

Content Warnings:

Dom/Sub

Solo F, M/f, F/m

Dubcon

Age play

Imprisoned women

Public climax

Common Reader Symptoms:

Increased heart throbbing

Moans and whimpers

Struggling for breath

Convulsions and cries of ecstasy

Increase of other throbbing parts

De Sade & Grimm

A SEDUCTION OF CLAY

A Dark Supernatural Short Story #2

Finding an Unknown Husband

When you are down, your loved one will lift you up.

—D. Grimm

She awoke lying cold and naked in a bed of hay. In the flickering candlelight, a fully clothed old man hovered over her with a grin full of crooked teeth. He was bald, his eyes were a dark brown, and wrinkles connected the sides of his eyes all the way down to the edges of his mouth. The skin at the bottom of his chin hung as if he kept secrets buried deep inside his mouth. She wished to cover herself, but no blanket was nearby. The window’s shutters were closed, but a large gap between the shutters allowed the chilly air in.

The bald man opened his mouth. There you are. The words emerged from his lips. His grin widened.

The shadows created by the candle’s jumping flame made his teeth look like they were shifting from side to side. He chomped on a juicy, green orb, then admired it.

Now this is a good apple. He held it in front of her face. Its tart, comforting scent wafted to her. I love fruit.

She opened her mouth. Pushed out air between her lips.

What... The last thing she remembered was… nothing at all. This dark hovel was not familiar. How did I get here? Who are you?

Your name is Alice Clay. He set the half-eaten fruit on a nearby table, one with a single chair tucked in. You are nineteen seasons of age on our lovely planet of Bot-Koll. You were birthed in the town of Donwich by the Fletchers. They ran an inn together. When I passed through town on one of my travels, I took you as my own, and now we are at my home.

Her name was Alice? Had he taken her from her family? Had she gone willingly or unwillingly?

Alice, she tried, feeling the name on her tongue. Alice. Alice.

She had no memory of being called by that name. But then, she had no memory of being called by any name.

The cold air chilled her skin. She craned her neck to look at the man better. The front of his tan short-sleeved doublet and the sleeves of his tunic were covered with splotches of mud. Even the bulbous front of his hose had mud on it.

Why is the surname of my parents Fletcher whilst my surname is Clay?

Ah! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Walter Clay. Your husband.

Husband! To such an old man?

My parents, she said. They permitted the union?

As if I were a godsend, he said. They wanted nothing to do with you and wish never to see you again.

How could that be? Had she been so evil a daughter?

Now then, he said. Follow my instructions. Let us check your health. Sit up.

Follow his instructions? Yes. It was right.

She sat up. Her bare feet felt cold on the dirt floor.

I shall evaluate your heartbeat, he said.

While standing at her bedside, he put a hand on her breast and eyed her as if checking her reaction. His cold fingers, the ones now gently squeezing her breast, were coated with dried mud. She studied her surroundings and saw pottery. Cups, mugs, plates, platters, bowls, and teapots. Large and small and all sizes in between.

You make pottery! She smiled. Their designs were intricate, symmetrical, pleasing.

You are observant. He twirled her hardening nipple between his fingertips. Her nipple tingled in a pleasant way. Indeed. It’s how I make my living.

Thank heavens. That must have been the reason she willingly married him. His artistic talent no doubt revealed a sensitivity and tenderness she must have needed when she did not get it from her parents.

She took in a deep breath and, with her exhale, relaxed.

Good, good. He removed his hand from her breast. Let me see your hand.

She put out her hand and he held her wrist. He was perhaps checking her pulse. It was hard to tell because he put so much focus on her fingers, the way he gently stroked them with his other hand. If only his hands weren’t so cold.

A glow caught her eye. There was someone visible in the large gap in the window’s shutters. What was that outside the window? It looked like a bearded man glowing blue in the night, looking in. When the bearded man noticed she spotted him, he dashed off.

Walter’s back was to the glowing man. He didn’t see the stranger. Instead, revealed a smile of satisfaction at testing her wrist and fingers.

Good, good. He brought the chair near her bedside and sat face-to-face. I need to examine the health of your interior. Open your legs.

She did so and saw no hair. That was odd.

I have no hair down there, she said. Did I shave it off?

He chuckled.

Shave it off, indeed, he muttered.

Was there something funny about her question?

How did I fall unconscious? she asked.

What?

How did I fall unconscious?

You hit your head. Now, I shall insert a finger to check your health inside.

With one hand, he opened her up, spreading the lips between her thighs. His touch felt cold and insignificant. He studied her