The Dread of Damned

I was suddenly lifted by someone, and I wanted nothing more than to break the hands of whoever dared to disturb me from my comfortable position.

I looked around and realized that I was now being held by the elderly woman, while the man and the little girl stood off to the side, watching me intently. I also noticed that the people who had been bustling in and out of the room earlier had stopped coming in. The large, ornate white double doors had been closed, leaving the room in a serene stillness.

Now, there were only four people left in the room—excluding myself. The elderly woman held me gently, her presence exuding warmth and care, though it was nothing compared to what I was feeling before she lifted me. The man and the little girl, both with the same distinctive white hair and eyes, observed with a mix of curiosity and joy. It felt as though I was in the midst of a family, surrounded by love and protection, though I still couldn't fully understand what was happening.

Then I saw the goddess—I mean, the woman with white hair and eyes—sit up and extend her hands toward me. I was placed back in her arms, and she gently held me close. She slipped the left strap of her gown off her shoulder, and I watched, transfixed, as the fabric slid down slowly, revealing her breast. Her skin was pale, and I noticed her nipples were inverted. She began to massage her breast with her left hand, coaxing it, while still holding me with her right. I was mesmerized as I watched the pink beads gradually emerge and then stand erect.

She brought me closer to her breast, and that thirst of mine from before became overwhelming and took hold of me. My instincts were primal—I wanted nothing more than to latch onto that pink flowerbud, to satisfy this insatiable craving. And so, I did.

I opened my mouth, closed it around her nipple, and began to suckle. Within moments, I felt a warm liquid fill my mouth, and the taste was beyond anything I had ever experienced. It was heavenly—an ecstasy that ignited something deep within me. This feeling was beyond mere hunger; it was a primal need, a craving I had never known. It felt more fulfilling than anything I'd ever tasted, more exquisite than the finest delicacy.

I suckled with vigor, feeling almost beast-like, driven by instinct. I drank greedily, so much so that I nearly choked. Sensing my distress, the woman quickly pulled me away and patted my back. I gasped, regaining my breath, spitting out some of the liquid in the process.

But then, I saw something that left me horrified—what I had spit out, and the droplets still lingering on her nipple, weren't milk. It was red. It was blood.

The realization should have filled me with disgust. I should have been repulsed, terrified by what had just happened. But instead, I felt something even more unsettling—I wanted more. The blood still looked more appealing to me than anything else I had ever seen. I found myself yearning to latch onto her breast once again, to taste that intoxicating nectar. It was a war between my rational mind and my primal instincts—a battle that ended almost as soon as it began.

I started crying, driven by that unquenchable thirst. The woman once again brought me to her breast, and I latched on, suckling eagerly. I drank deeply, my eyes closing, feeling an indescribable contentment as I gave in to this strange, new hunger.